"No summer's by one swallow made, I've still heard people say, And yet, methinks, cold winter comes Thus to a shepherd youth said once The river's bank they strayed: "I don't know how that is," said he; "Perhaps the saying 's not true, But lest it should be, come with me, And we'll be swallows two; "And 'twill be summer still with us, She went with him, the shepherd maid, And of them both I think each time The swallows come in May. CARLSRUHE, May 12, 1856. THERE are two words the German says Oftener than any prayer, The first of them it is "wohin?" The second is "wohér?” Wohin? wohér? Upon mine ear But when I hear him cry "wohér?" CARLSRUHE, May 15, 1856. A cóld heart and unfurnished head Allied to princes though he be, But to the man of generous heart, CARLSRUHE, May 19, 1856. HEBEL. HAIL, mighty Badish Orpheus! Hebel, hail! How I would like to have heard thee in the senate, Evangelist and Lutheran and Papist, And right and wrong, and moral and immoral, And catechism, and providence, and God; Then, to the theatre the Kirchenrath' And prelate, following, marked him in th' orchestra, And soon a fourth time to be married, Hendel, He cleared his pipe or drained his pot of beer, O blest beyond the ordinary lot, Wise without wisdom, without learning learned, *See Extracts from Hebel's letters, contained in the account of his life prefixed to the three volume Edition of his works, published at Stuttgart in 1847. No less the sovereign's than the people's darling, Proof of God's providence for every creature, * THE poor man is the carpet spread between The rough floor and the rich man's gouty foot. Tread on him softly, rich man, and be thankful; And if, at times, thou feel'st a wrinkle in him, Fly not into a passion, stamp not, rant not, Even for the sake of thine own gouty foot. CARLSRUHE, March 21, 1856. * "Lueg, 's Spinnli merkts enanderno, Jez muessi au ne Brotis ha!" I sags io, der wo alle git, Wenns Zit isch, er vergisst ein nit." HEBEL, Das Spinnlein. Young Forester sings. I NEVER hear the woodpecker's And hungry maw of Time. But let me hear my Mary Anne's And I think of the woodpecker's CARLSRUHE, March 19, 1856. MY poem is the temple of the Muse, Wash clean thine hands, and cast from thee away Then reverent come, to meditate and pray, And I'll admit thee to the sacred aisles. CARLSRUHE, May 14, 1856. |