Peace is perfect over All the hills. Scarce wilt thou discover A breath, so still’s Every tree.

Spring has leapt into Summer. A glory has gone from the green. The flush of the poplar has sobere… The flame in the leaf of the lime… But I am thinking of the young me…

In misty blue the lark is heard Above the silent homes of men; The bright-eyed thrush, the little… The yellow-billed sweet-voiced bla… Mid sallow blossoms blond as curd

Unhappy goddess! Has then envious… Denied thine eyes the radiance of… Have mortals, that still need thy… Their wrangling lives, their daily… That thou might’st judge with ster…

A grinding swerve, a hissing spurt… And then a droning through the dir… The tram glides on its wonted way Of everyday, of everyday. Past every corner still the same

What wouldst thou with me? By wha… My spirit allure, absorb, compel? The last long beam that thou didst… Is buried now on evening’s brink. The garden’s leafy alleys lone,

Lamp that risest lone From thy secret place, Like a sleeper’s face, Charged with thoughts unknown, Strange thoughts, unexpressed

She was binding the wounds of her… The lint in her hand unrolled. They battered the door with their… She faced them gentle and bold. They haled her before the judges w…

By the warm road—side, where chest… The brightness shaded, supine, at… A felon, freed that morn, Lay idle, and wondered, gazing up… O strange no more to be one of a b…

Because thou art nearest To the mystery of the fire That is Earth’s and the soul’s And the body’s desire, Whereof we were made

The night wind over the great down… Streams along the sky. In the solitude of the hill—side There is only you and I. The night wind leaps and rushes

A wondrous rumour fills and stirs The wide Carmanian Vale; On leafy hills the sunburnt vintag… Stand listening; silent is the ech… Upon the threshing—floors:

If I could sing the song of her Who makes my heart to sing; If I could catch the words to mat… Its secret blossoming; My song should be a heaven of soun…

I dream of western waters, and of… And of mornings when they appear Flowering out of the mist on a sea… Warm and familiar and near. Then O how changed! fugitive, fai…

Goethe, who saw and who foretold A world revealed New—springing from its ashes old On Valmy field, When Prussia’s sullen hosts retir…