The
town, which was half destroyed by fire,
They are building at their leisure.
It looks like a half-shorn poodle now,
Depressing beyond measure.
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And
many a street has disappeared
That sadly enough one misses.
Where is the house in which I kissed
Love's first and sweetest kisses?.
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3
And
where has the printing-office gone
Where I printed my Reisebilder?
The shop where I tasted oysters first?
How these changes and gaps bewilder.
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4
Where
is the Dreckwall? Vanished, alas!
In vain I have reconnoitred;
The Pavilion too, with its tarts and cakes,
Where of old I ate and loitered.
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Where
is the town-hall where, throned in pride,
The Senate and burgers debated?
A prey to the flames that wrecked and devoured
The holiest things, unsated.
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6
The
people are grieving and sighing still,
And telling the dismal story
Of the havoc wrought by the terrible fire
That has shorn their city's glory.
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7
"Nothing
but surging flame and smoke—
The fire seized all for plunder!
The steeples roared and blazed to heaven,
And reeled and crashed in thunder.
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"The
old Exchange with the rest is burnt
Where our fathers had dealt and traded
For hundreds of years like honest men—
(Or so they were persuaded).
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"The
bank, the silver soul of the town,
And the books in which is given
The money value of every man
They are still intact, thank Heaven!
