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Appenzell Dawn — Schwende
Deep within night's abysm, darkened still,
In white robes, embraced of a wooded hill,
Sleeps Christ's church 'neath her onion dome;
Chaste as fore in her maiden home.
There sings a children's choir of stars,
By pale of moon and red of mars,
A hymn of faint and far recall
That calls them forth from Adam's fall.
Till fist rays o'er spread the vale
And dimly light each dell and swale,
But break in power on the lordly crown
Of the lordly mountain above the town;
Ignites in flame, ruby, onyx and gold,
The seams and crags of the peak enfold,
And lures them up with harness and rope,
For reason naught, that vertical slope.
And 'long the road, waves of black silk,
Peddles a bike with a bucket of milk,
In modern dress, a milkmaid young,
Across the tracks and there among
And past town's children walking there,
Perhaps to learn what might be fair
In the greater world of tasteless mold,
In this curious mix of new and old.
Deep within night's abysm, darkened still,
In white robes, embraced of a wooded hill,
Sleeps Christ's church 'neath her onion dome;
Chaste as fore in her maiden home.
There sings a children's choir of stars,
By pale of moon and red of mars,
A hymn of faint and far recall
That calls them forth from Adam's fall.
Till fist rays o'er spread the vale
And dimly light each dell and swale,
But break in power on the lordly crown
Of the lordly mountain above the town;
Ignites in flame, ruby, onyx and gold,
The seams and crags of the peak enfold,
And lures them up with harness and rope,
For reason naught, that vertical slope.
And 'long the road, waves of black silk,
Peddles a bike with a bucket of milk,
In modern dress, a milkmaid young,
Across the tracks and there among
And past town's children walking there,
Perhaps to learn what might be fair
In the greater world of tasteless mold,
In this curious mix of new and old.
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