By Rhine, our sacred river,
On mirroring waves is thrown
With its great Dom for ever,
Our great and sacred Cologne.

High in the Dom hath its station
A picture on leather of gold;
Amid my life's desolation
I saw it, and was consoled.

Flowers and seraphs hover
Around Our Lady there,
Whose eyes, lips, cheeks, discover
The face of my sweetheart fair.