Im Kopfe trage ich Bijouterien,Der Zukunft Krondiamanten,Die Tempelkleinodien des neuen Gotts,Des grossen Unbekannten.

The stones here speak to me, and I know their mute language. Also, they seem deeply to feel what I think. So a broken column of the old Roman times, an old tower of Lombardy, a weather- beaten Gothic piece of a pillar understands me well. But I am a ruin myself, wandering among ruins.

Every age thinks its battle the most important of all.

The dragon-fly is dancing,— Is on the water glancing, She flits about with nimble wing, The flickering, fluttering, restless thing. Besotted chafers all admire Her light-blue, gauze-like, neat attire; They laud her blue complexion, And think her shape perfection...