Song Of The Zeppelin

I cleave the air through the murky night,             High o'er the forests and sleeping towns;         Below me drifts the shimmering light -             A glorious fresco on vale and downs;         My sea hath no billows nor rocky shores,             And only the winds disturb my soul;         I care not for those who slumber in death,             For my bomb is bloody and death my goal -                     And all for the Vaterland!         Where the currents cross and the cruisers speed             I sail towards the North in a piteous sky;         I hear the night wind's surging note             As it mingles its requiem with the widow's cry.         Above me there streams a light from heaven,             But I bow my head and veil my eyes         As I plough the fields with my fateful keel             And sow the highways with tears and sighs -                     And all for the Vaterland!         And hate is the banner I unfurl so wide             That its blood-dripp'd folds may catch the breeze;         That e'en from the balcony of heaven on high             May be seen this banner on all the seas.         No triumph of arms is my flight by night,             It is only a part of a murderous raid:         Dropping a bomb on an innocent child             Or a crowing babe in its cradle laid -                     And all for the Vaterland!         For Thomas Walsh.