The tide will ebb at day's decline: _Ich bin dein!_ Impatient for the open sea, At anchor rocks the tossing ship, The ship which only waits for thee; Yet with no tremble of the lip I say again, thy hand in mine, _Ich bin dein!_ I shall not weep, or grieve, or pine. _Ich bin dein!_ Go, lave once more thy restless hands Afar within the azure sea,-- Traverse Arabia's scorching sands,-- Fly where no thought can follow thee, O'er desert waste and billowy brine: _Ich bin dein!_ Dream on the slopes of Apennine: _Ich bin dein!_ Stand where the glaciers freeze and frown, Where Alpine torrents flash and foam, Or watch the loving sun go down Behind the purple hills of Rome, Leaving a twilight half divine: _Ich bin dein!_ Thy steps may fall beside the Rhine: _Ich bin dein!_ Slumber may kiss thy drooping lids Amid the mazes of the Nile, The shadow of the Pyramids May cool thy feet,--yet all the while, Though storms may beat, or stars may shine, _Ich bin dein!_ Where smile the hills of Palestine, _Ich bin dein!_ Where rise the mosques and minarets,-- Where every breath brings flowery balms,-- Where souls forget their dark regrets Beneath the strange, mysterious palms,-- Where the banana builds her shrine,-- _Ich bin dein!_ Too many clusters break the vine: _Ich bin dein!_ The tree whose strength and life outpour In one exultant blossom-gush Must flowerless be forevermore: We walk _this_ way but once, friend;--hush! Our feet have left no trodden line: _Ich bin dein!_ Who heaps his goblet wastes his wine: _Ich bin dein!_ The boat is moving from the land;-- I have no chiding and no tears;-- Now give me back my empty hand To battle with the cruel years,-- Behold, the triumph shall be mine! _Ich bin dein!_ * * * * * THE REPRESENTATIVE ART.