Poems by Charles G. Leland
Sorted by title, showing title and first line
De moon shines ofer de cloudlens,
“Were diu werlt alle min,
He shtood peside de Kloster-place,
Der noble Ritter Hugo
Der Schwackenhammer coom to down,
How wunderschön das Vaterland
Hans Breitmann shoined de Turners,
Der Sheneral Sherman holts oop on his coorse,
“Bjó foeri ek thér,
Who vas efer hear soosh voonders,
“Très estimé ami, Ick seyn nock nit verdorb,
O hear a wondrous shdory
He sits in bivouacke,
For fear of some missed onder standings, I vould shtate, dat dis is only mean de last Barty dat der Coptain Breitmann has ge given—as yed. Pimepy I kess he gife anoder von, und if I kits an in-leading, or indrotuckshun, I kess I’ll go. I am von of de
DER FADER UND DER SON.
“Wie kennt die stad waer alles nog
Vhen sommer drees shake fort deir leafs,
Dere woned once a studente,
To Amsterd-m came Breitmann
Tis shveet to valk in Holland towns
Oldt Flämisch.
Vonce oopon a dimes, goot vhile afder der var vas ofer, der Herr Breitmann vent oud Vest, drafellin’ apout like efery dings “circuivit terram et perambulavit eam,” ash der Teufel said ven dey ask him: “How vash you und how you has peen?”
Der Breitmann sits in la Sorbonne,
Der Breitmann mit his gompany
“Recessit in Franciam.”
Vhen ash de var vas ober,
Dere’s lighds oopon de Appian,
Derr Breitmann hear im Turkenreich
“Altri beva il Falerno, altri la Tolfa.
“Vides igitur, Collega carissime, visitationem canonicam esse rem haud ita periculosam, sed valde amoenam, si modo vinum, groggio et cibi praesto sunt.”
Ich bin ein Deutscher,
Ash on de Alapama biz,
Dot vos a schwartz Zigeuner
It was stiller, dimmer twilight
I.
Ven de winter make oos shifer
Wie gehts, my frendts if you’ll allow
I.
“Sankt Martin war ein frommer Mann
“Vot ish Art? Id ish somedings to drink, objectively foregebrought in de Beaudiful. Doubtest dou? denn read, ash I hafe read, de Dyonisiacs of Nonnus, and learn dat de oopboorstin of infinite worlds into edernal Light und mad goldnen Lofeliness yea o
Hans Breitmann gife a barty;
“Häc est illa bona dies
Vhen der Herr Breitmann vas a yungling, he vas go bummin aroundt goot deal in de worldt, vestigatin human natur, roulant de vergne en vergne, ash de Fraentsch boet says: “goin from town to town;” seein beobles in gemixed sociedy, und learnin dose lan
“Robusti sono i fatti.”
O vere mine lofe a sugar-powl,
“Hupsa! jonker Jan,
Die Speer die er thut führen
I.
“Uns ist in alten Maeren
De Picknock oud at Spraker’s Wood:
Si liceret te amare
I stoompled oud ov a dafern,
In dis boem, mein freund der Herr Breitmann hafe his fiews on art pefore-geset mit a deepness und shorthood vich is bropably oonliked in Aesthetik. Ve hafe here, within de circumcomprehensifeness of dirty-two lines, a théorie vitch shortsomely exbres