Drei Küsse bis zur Liebe (Romana) (German Edition)
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No warranties are given. The license may not give you all of the permissions necessary for your intended use. The puffing gale of morn, That of its charms divests the dewy lawn, And robs each flow'ret of its gem—and dies; A cobweb, hiding disappointment's thorn, Which stings more keenly through the thin disguise. That dark mysterious name of horrid sound? A long and lingering sleep the weary crave. Where can its happiness abound? Nowhere at all, save heaven and the grave. Then what is Life? When stripped of its disguise, A thing to be desired it cannot be; Since everything that meets our foolish eyes Gives proof sufficient of its vanity.
Comment Moon Over Bourbon Street There's a moon over Bourbon Street tonight I see faces as they pass beneath the pale lamplight I've no choice but to follow that call The bright lights, the people, and the moon and all. Comment Consider Me Gone. Roses have thorns Shining water's mud And cancer lurks deep In the sweetest bud. Etwa um diese Zeit schrieb er das folgende, recht eindringliche Kurzgedicht: Dust of Snow http: Comment Hunters in the Snow The over-all picture is winter icy mountains in the background Comment The Snowdrop Already the Snowdrop dares appear, The first pale blossom of th' unripen'd year; As Flora's breath, by some transforming power, Had chang'd an icicle into a flower, Its name and hue the scentless plant retains, And winter lingers in its icy veins.
Discussion has been deleted. Comment The Smile There is a smile of love, And there is a smile of deceit, And there is a smile of smiles In which these two smiles meet; And there is a frown of hate, And there is a frown of disdain, And there is a frown of frowns Which you strive to forget in vain, For it sticks in the heart's deep core, And it sticks in the deep back bone, And no smile that ever was smil'd, But only one smile alone That betwixt the cradle and grave It only once smil'd can be, But when it once is smil'd, There's an end to all misery.
Es saust der Stock, es schwirrt die Rute. Du darfst nicht zeigen, was du bist. Wie schad, o Mensch, dass dir das Gute Im Grunde so zuwider ist. Friedrich Hebbel — Was droben in den Wipfeln rauscht, das wird hier unten ausgetauscht. Comment Fairy Song Oh, where do fairies hide their heads When snow lies on the hills When frost has spoil'd their mossy beds And crystalized their rills? Beneath the moon they cannot trip In circles o're the plain, And drafts of dew they cannot sip Till green leaves come again Till green leaves come again.
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Perhaps in small blue diving bells They plunge beneath the waves, Inhabiting the wreathed shells That lie in coral caves Perhaps in red Vesuvius Carousals they maintain And cheer their little spirits up Till green leaves come again Till green leaves come again. When back they come there'll be glad mirth And music in the air, And fairy wings upon the earth, And mischief everywhere The maids, to keep the elves aloof, will bar the doors in vain, No keyhole will be fairy proof When green leaves come again Wo wohnen denn die Feen im Winter?
Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight For the ends of Being and ideal Grace. I love thee to the level of everyday's Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light. I love thee freely, as men strive for Right; I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with a passion put to use In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith. I love thee with a love I seemed to lose With my lost saints, I love thee with the breath, Smiles, tears, of all my life! Ich liebe dich bis zu dem stillsten Stand, den jeder Tag erreicht im Lampenschein oder in Sonne. Frei, im Recht, und rein wie jene, die vom Ruhm sich abgewandt. Mit aller Leidenschaft der Leidenszeit und mit der Kindheit Kraft, die fort war, seit ich meine Heiligen nicht mehr geliebt.
Und wenn Gott es giebt, will ich dich besser lieben nach dem Tod. I cannot send you one single flower from this wealth of the spring, one single streak of gold from yonder clouds. Open your doors and look abroad. Comment 99 auf Englisch I When coldness wraps this suffering clay, Ah! It cannot die, it cannot stay, But leaves its darken'd dust behind. Then, unembodied, doth it trace By steps each planet's heavenly way? Or fill at once the realms of space, A thing of eyes, that all survey? II Eternal, boundless, undecay'd, A thought unseen, but seeing all, All, all in earth or skies display'd, Shall it survey, shall it recal: Each fainter trace that memory holds So darkly of departed years, In one broad glance the soul beholds, And all, that was, at once appears.
III Before Creation peopled earth, Its eye shall roll through chaos back; And where the farthest heaven had birth, The spirit trace its rising track. And where the future mars or makes, Its glance dilate o'er all to be, While sun is quench'd or system breaks, Fix'd in its own eternity. An age shall fleet like earthly year; Its years as moments shall endure. Away, away, without a wing, O'er all, through all, its thoughts shall fly; A nameless and eternal thing, Forgetting what it was to die.
It was first published in , so it is in the public domain. II I was of three minds, Like a tree In which there are three blackbirds. III The blackbird whirled in the autumn winds. It was a small part of the pantomime. IV A man and a woman Are one. A man and a woman and a blackbird Are one.
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V I do not know which to prefer, The beauty of inflections Or the beauty of innuendoes, The blackbird whistling Or just after. VI Icicles filled the long window With barbaric glass.
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The shadow of the blackbird Crossed it, to and fro. The mood Traced in the shadow An indecipherable cause. Do you not see how the blackbird Walks around the feet Of the women about you? IX When the blackbird flew out of sight, It marked the edge Of one of many circles. X At the sight of blackbirds Flying in a green light, Even the bawds of euphony Would cry out sharply.
XI He rode over Connecticut In a glass coach. Once, a fear pierced him, In that he mistook The shadow of his equipage For blackbirds. XII The river is moving. The blackbird must be flying. XIII It was evening all afternoon. It was snowing And it was going to snow. The blackbird sat In the cedar-limbs.
Wallace Stevens — http: Christian Morgenstern - Robert Graves - Comment A Winter's Tale Yesterday the fields were only grey with scattered snow, And now the longest grass-leaves hardly emerge; Yet her deep footsteps mark the snow, and go On towards the pines at the hills' white verge. I cannot see her, since the mist's white scarf Obscures the dark wood and the dull orange sky; But she's waiting, I know, impatient and cold, half Sobs struggling into her frosty sigh.
Why does she come so promptly, when she must know That she's only the nearer to the inevitable farewell; The hill is steep, on the snow my steps are slow-- Why does she come, when she knows what I have to tell? This is one of the most popular Christmas carols in America. It was written by Joseph Mohr, in , for the Christmas celebration in his church that year.
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