Gottfried August Bürger,
Lenore
(1900)
“ And the sparks spurt up, and the stones run round. Here to the right and there to the left Flew fields of corn and clover, And the bridges flashed by to the dazzled eye, As rattling they thundered over. "What ails my love? the moon shines bright: Bravely the dead men ride through the night. Is my love afraid of the quiet dead?" ”
