by Heinrich Heinetranslated by Emily Pfeiffer

“ The Mother of God at Kevlaar
To-day wears her best silk gown;
To-day she has much to see to,
For sick folk from the town.
The sick and maimed are bringing
Her offerings where she stands,
Of members made in waxwork,
And mostly feet and hands;
He who a wax hand offers
Is cured if his hand is maim;
He who a wax foot offers
Gets healed in the foot that's lame.
To Kevlaar went many on crutches,
Who now on the tight-rope bound ”

“ Sighing he knelt in his place;
The words streamed out of his lips,
The tears streamed over his face.
"O thou who art high and blessed,
God's Maid without a stain,
O thou who art Queen of Heaven,
Have pity on my pain! ”

“ When a little boy, receiving in the Franciscan monastery at Düsseldorf my first training, learning to spell and to sit still, my place was frequently near another boy who was forever relating to me how his mother once took him to Kevlaar (the accent lies on the first syllable the place itself is in the neighborhood of Gelder) , how she had there offered for him a waxen foot, and how his own lame foot had thereby got healed. ”