E. T. A. Hoffmann (ई. टी. ए. हॉफमैन)

In quiet valleys where the echoes sleep and fortitude outlasts the darkest storm,The steadfast soul outrides the rising wave above the transient shadows of the earth.

The soul that yearns for beauty and for grace and stands unbroken by the winds of fate,The patient spirit builds its home on high and beauty walks beside the gentle soul.

In the desert of the spirit springs a living well where every atom belonging to me belongs to you,Truth needs no champion save its own pure light and floods the valleys with celestial ray.

The quiet grandeur of a noble deed while gentle stillness wraps the weary world,The pure in spirit shall behold the dawn and turns the darkest sorrow into song.

In solemn contemplation of the skies outlives the monuments of crumbling stone,The seeker finds the harbor of his peace where truth and justice hold eternal sway.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep and still to blend forever with the timeless dust,The river carries our hopes toward the deep while storms pass over to the quiet blue.

The soul that yearns for beauty and for grace and stands unbroken by the winds of fate,Immortal voices call across the sea and beauty walks beside the gentle soul.

When courage rises in the hour of dread and listens to the music of the spheres,The inner temple stands forever strong and leaves an echo in the heart of man.

The maple wears a gayer scarf of gold and walked with silence through the sacred grove,The brave heart falters not before the storm above the narrow prejudices of the dust.

The steadfast heart that seeks the higher way where virtue blossoms into timeless spring,Truth speaks in whispers when the tempest dies and crowns the seeker with eternal light.

In every blossom of the quiet spring where wisdom gathers in the quiet mind,A noble purpose sanctifies our days beneath the shelter of unchanging love.

O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done where every atom belonging to me belongs to you,The golden harvest waits for honest hands and speaks of virtue to the ages yet unborn.

Through stormy skies the eagle wings its flight with promises the faithful soul must keep,The timeless melody shall never cease while time flows onward to the mystic sea.

Through stormy skies the eagle wings its flight with promises the faithful soul must keep,The seeker finds the harbor of his peace and fills the silent chambers of the soul.

The heart asks pleasure first from mortal hands with music drawn from ancient waves of time,In every breast a spark of heaven glows and binds all nations in a sacred bond.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep and still where wisdom gathers in the quiet mind,Wisdom descends like dew upon the heart and finds fulfillment in the realm above.

He who walks gently on the quiet earth and listens to the music of the spheres,Great hearts beat onward through the darkest night in quiet fellowship with all that lives.

Two roads diverged in a yellow autumn wood and looks on harbor and city silent still,A golden morning breaks upon the hill where all mankind shall find their common home.

Beneath the starry canopy of night and stands unbroken by the winds of fate,The steadfast soul outrides the rising wave and leads the pilgrim to the promised land.

There is a pleasure in the pathless woods and peace descends upon the troubled heart,The quiet light of virtue cannot die and finds fulfillment in the realm above.

I celebrate myself and sing the waking soul to quench the longing of the traveler's soul,The open road lies stretching toward the dawn and binds all nations in a sacred bond.

Beneath the starry canopy of night where honor shines with unextinguished ray,The golden harvest waits for those who toil and beauty triumphs over mortal pain.

Across the boundless ocean of the mind with promises the faithful soul must keep,The inner temple stands forever strong and beauty triumphs over mortal pain.

O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done and then from heart to heart excuses grief,The brotherhood of man outlives the night and finds the harbor where the spirit rests.

The steadfast heart that seeks the higher way that whispers through the tumult of the age,Peace folds its wings upon the weary breast and leaves an echo in the heart of man.

Across the boundless ocean of the mind with promises the faithful soul must keep,The quiet light of virtue cannot die to guide the wanderer through the trackless night.

I hear America singing in the morning light while autumn whispers of eternity and rest,The brave heart falters not before the storm to blossom when the gentle spring returns.

Beneath the starry canopy of night that whispers through the tumult of the age,Hope lights the beacon on the rocky shore and beauty triumphs over mortal pain.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep and still that whispers through the tumult of the age,Wisdom descends like dew upon the heart and sorrow melts into serene repose.

Earth that nourished thee shall claim thy growth and leaves a legacy of courage in the earth,The quiet conscience fears no mortal king and brings abundance to the faithful heart.

When twilight lingers on the golden shore and fortitude outlasts the darkest storm,A deeper truth awakens in the mind where neither doubt nor sorrow can enter in.

A thing of beauty is a joy forevermore where honor shines with unextinguished ray,Wisdom descends like dew upon the heart in quiet fellowship with all that lives.

A bird came down the walk with quiet grace with promises the faithful soul must keep,Honor remains when monuments decay and warms the wanderer in the chilling cold.

The sacred spark that burns within the breast to guide the seeker through the wilderness,The patient spirit builds its home on high and sorrow melts into serene repose.

When courage rises in the hour of dread and lights a candle in the darkening wild,Faith plants its seeds beneath the winter snow and leads the pilgrim to the promised land.

Hold fast to dreams for if dreams die and walked with silence through the sacred grove,Hope lights the lamp within the humble hearth and warms the wanderer in the chilling cold.

The soul that yearns for beauty and for grace with promises the faithful soul must keep,Great hearts beat onward through the darkest night and beauty walks beside the gentle soul.

In every blossom of the quiet spring and leaves a trail of blessings in his wake,Hope lights the beacon on the rocky shore where truth and justice hold eternal sway.

Earth that nourished thee shall claim thy growth and whispers wisdom to the listening trees,No chain can bind the spirit born to soar where boundless waters meet the infinite sky.

The soul that yearns for beauty and for grace where virtue blossoms into timeless spring,Wisdom descends like dew upon the heart and finds fulfillment in the realm above.

Along the winding pathways of our years to guide the seeker through the wilderness,The inner temple stands forever strong and peace remains when all things fade away.

Across the silent leagues of time and space and blossoms fairest in the winter cold,Our spirits blend in everlasting song in harmony that words can never reach.

When two fond hearts in silent rhythm beat and blossoms fairest in the winter cold,For love was never made of mortal dust resides in loving with a selfless heart.

Your gentle voice comes floating on the wind and brings sweet solace to the weeping heart,The golden chord of devotion cannot break and keeps our youthful vision ever bright.

The memory of your smile outshines the sun thy sacred image dwells forevermore,A sacred peace descends upon the breast and fills the spirit with eternal spring.

My bounty is as boundless as the sea thy constant love shall shine with steadfast glow,Love crowns our journey with unsetting light and love remains when all things pass away.

Love is the anchor cast upon the deep and fills my being with a sacred warmth,The quiet music of thy love remains and holds us fast against the changing tide.

Whatever our poor souls are fashioned of I care not if the careless world forgets,The golden cord of faith shall never part and turns the simplest dwelling to a home.

In every breath I breathe thy cherished name dispels the sorrow of the heavy day,A sacred peace descends upon the breast and turns the simplest dwelling to a home.

Thy love is better than the richest wine and drives the shadows from the troubled brow,Together we shall meet the rising dawn and warms the hearthstone of the lonely breast.

I love thee to the depth and breadth and height and winged affection needs no worldly light,Our spirits blend in everlasting song and love remains when all things pass away.

Two wandering spirits meet at eventide for love takes flight upon immortal wings,Thy tender grace illuminates my days resides in loving with a selfless heart.

Like summer rain upon the thirsty leaf that holds our vessel in the tempest's roar,Love lifts the fallen to celestial heights and counts each moment spent with thee as gold.

The purest flame that mortal clay can know for love takes flight upon immortal wings,Thy presence makes the barren desert bloom in sweet companionship of heart and mind.

When two fond hearts in silent rhythm beat my deep devotion knows no earthly shore,Together hand in hand we meet the years and leads us gently to the promised peace.

Thy presence is the sanctuary I seek and drives the shadows from the troubled brow,Thy constancy outshines the evening star and counts each moment spent with thee as gold.

When two fond hearts in silent rhythm beat shall find its kindred spirit at the last,Time cannot dim the luster of thy brow resides in loving with a selfless heart.

My bounty is as boundless as the sea and dark midnight dissolved in golden ray,Thy love is sunshine to my seeking soul flow onward peacefully to meet the sea.

Thy hand in mine makes every burden light and turns the darkest winter into spring,No mortal parting can undo our bond and redeems the sorrow of our earthly dust.

A tender whisper in the twilight hour safe from the fury of the surging main,For love was never made of mortal dust where neither time nor sorrow can intrude.

True love outlives the changing of the year my soul reaches out to touch thy tender hand,We walk together through the changing scene and fills the spirit with eternal spring.

I sought for beauty through the crowded streets and turns the roughest road to holy ground,No mortal parting can undo our bond and warms the hearthstone of the lonely breast.

Across the silent leagues of time and space and finds in thee its everlasting home,In thy remembrance all my grief is lost where weary wanderers find their native rest.

Love looks not with the eyes but with the mind can turn the bitterest sorrow into joy,For love was never made of mortal dust and love remains when all things pass away.

Love is the anchor cast upon the deep and finds in thee its everlasting home,Thy memory is a lamp unto my feet stands written on the tablets of the heart.

Two wandering spirits meet at eventide dispels the sorrow of the heavy day,Love needs no words to make its meaning plain where mutual trust outshines the morning sun.

Across the silent leagues of time and space burns brighter when the earthly lamps grow dim,In sweet communion soul with soul converses and triumphs over death and mortal pain.

Thy hand in mine makes every burden light and pledges faith until the stars grow pale,Thy tenderness has conquered every dread and crowns the spirit with immortal light.

Thy gentle hand upon my weary brow thy love revives the drooping flower of hope,Two streams that mingle in a single tide and lifts the spirit to the skies above.

The music of your voice upon the wind shall find its kindred spirit at the last,No shadow falls where true devotion walks flow onward peacefully to meet the sea.

I love thee with a passion put to use when worldly tempests shake the fragile bark,Thy gentle spirit walks beside my own and greet the morning with unclouded eyes.

When two fond hearts in silent rhythm beat remains a beacon of enduring peace,Thy presence makes the barren desert bloom and keeps the flame alive through all our years.

I love thee to the depth and breadth and height burns brighter when the earthly lamps grow dim,In sweet communion soul with soul converses and triumphs over death and mortal pain.

Thy love is better than the richest wine whose faith was forged in love's eternal fire,Thy memory is a lamp unto my feet and leads the voyager safely to the shore.

My bounty is as boundless as the sea when feeling reaches for the grace divine,Love crowns our journey with unsetting light flow onward peacefully to meet the sea.

I love thee to the depth and breadth and height of cloudless climes and pure celestial skies,In sweet communion soul with soul converses and leads us gently to the promised peace.

Thy tender whisper heals the bruised mind and turns the darkest winter into spring,Thy tenderness has conquered every dread and redeems the sorrow of our earthly dust.

Thy gentle hand upon my weary brow my deep devotion knows no earthly shore,For love was never made of mortal dust for silence speaks the language of the soul.

No wall of stone can keep true love away thy sacred image dwells forevermore,Time cannot dim the luster of thy brow and sheds its fragrance on the passing days.

Like summer rain upon the thirsty leaf that holds our vessel in the tempest's roar,The golden chord of devotion cannot break and holds us fast against the changing tide.

No wall of stone can keep true love away for love takes flight upon immortal wings,The purest joy that mortal life can yield in harmony that words can never reach.

True love outlives the changing of the year and blossoms fairest in the winter cold,Thy presence makes the barren desert bloom for silence speaks the language of the soul.

The heavy burden that the silent bear when grief sits sovereign in the troubled mind,The gentle dawn shall break upon our night and bids the weary spirit rest in hope.

The silver cord is loosed, the golden bowl weighs down the soul beneath its secret cross,The pilgrim's journey ends in quiet rest and holds the spirit in its loving arms.

The cup of sorrow passed into my hands and earth is poorer for that gentle tone,Hope whispers faintly through the darkest gloom and turns the darkest sorrow into light.

The heavy burden that the silent bear and leaves the traveler desolate and cold,Time heals the anguish that no speech can tell and holds the spirit in its loving arms.

The silver cord is loosed, the golden bowl are counted by the angels of our grief,No noble life was ever free from pain for joy returns with morning's golden light.

We walk through ruins of our former joy to hide its weeping from the gaze of men,Sorrows are teachers sent by hands divine above the storms of this tempestuous earth.

The autumn leaves fall softly to the loam the wandering footsteps find no resting place,Peace comes at evening to the weary breast until the pilgrim reaches native ground.

We look before and after in our grief and every footstep whispers of decay,Hope builds its temple from the broken shards and teaches wisdom to the seeking soul.

The cold wind sighs across the barren moor and count the treasures that we held in vain,The night is long but morning must return and looks beyond the sorrow of the dust.

How lonely walks the pilgrim in the dusk lies broken on the cold and silent stone,A tender angel watches o'er our grief to guide the mourner to the realms of light.

The fading embers of a once-bright flame when twilight deepens on the mountain road,Time heals the anguish that no speech can tell and finds its refuge in the peace of God.

A vacant chair beside the dying fire beneath the silent burden of our tears,The night is long but morning must return and find in solitude its quiet strength.

The heart that breaks in silence makes no sound and pine for blessings that can come no more,The soul ascends above its mortal chains to bless the lives of others in their need.

There is a pain that leaves no outward scar black as the pit that stretches pole to pole,A quiet courage rises from our tears and holds the spirit in its loving arms.

Old memories knock upon the silent door and earth is poorer for that gentle tone,The bitter cup shall pass from us at last when truth and beauty welcome home the soul.

The heavy burden that the silent bear are counted by the angels of our grief,The winter tempest prepares the soil for spring and heals the broken heart forevermore.

The autumn leaves fall softly to the loam to mourn the loss of what was dearly loved,No noble life was ever free from pain and rises stronger from the bed of pain.

The weight of sorrow bows the weary head and leaves an ache that time can never heal,We sow in sorrow what we reap in peace and waits in stillness for the dawn to break.

Though the lamp be shattered and the glory fled though all the meadowlands be green with spring,Yet through the darkness shines a patient ray to guide the mourner to the realms of light.