First of all to go was that sickening sweet tenderness which sucked away the soul of Germany like a damp and moldy riverbed. Light! Light! A rough, dry wind which should sweep away the miasmas of the swamp, the misty staleness of the _Lieder, Liedchen, Liedlein_, as numerous as drops of rain in which inexhaustibly the Germanic _Gemüt_ is poured forth: the countless things like _Sehnsucht_ (Desire), _Heimweh_ (Homesickness), _Aufschwung_ (Soaring), _Trage_ (A question), _Warum_? (Why?), _an den Mond_ (To the Moon), _an die Sterne_ (To the Stars), _an die Nachtigall_ (To the Nightingale), _an den Frühling_ (To Spring), _an den Sonnenschein_ (To Sunshine): like _Frühlingslied_ (Spring Song), _Frühlingslust_ (Delights of Spring), _Frühlingsgruss_ (Hail to the Spring), _Frülingsfahrt_ (A Spring Journey), _Frülingsnacht_ (A Spring Night), _Frühlingsbotschaft_ (The Message of Spring): like _Stimme der Liebe_ (The Voice of Love), _Sprache der Liebe_ (The Language of Love), _Trauer der Liebe_ (Love's Sorrow), _Geist der Liebe_ (The Spirit of Love), _Fülle der Liebe_ (The Fullness of Love): like _Blumenlied_ (The Song of the Flowers), _Blumenbrief_ (The Letter of the Flowers), _Blumengruss_ (Flowers' Greeting): like _Herzeleid_ (Heart Pangs), _Mein Herz ist schwer_ (My Heart is Heavy), _Mein Herz ist betrübt_ (My Heart is Troubled), _Mein Aug' ist trüb_ (My Eye is Heavy): like the candid and silly dialogues with the _Röselein_ (The Little Rose), with the brook, with the turtle dove, with the lark: like those idiotic questions: _"If the briar could have no thorns?"--"Is an old husband like a lark who has built a nest?"--"Is she newly plighted?"_: the whole deluge of stale tenderness, stale emotion, stale melancholy, stale poetry.... How many lovely things profaned, rare things, used in season or out! For the worst of it was that it was all useless: a habit of undressing their hearts in public, a fond and foolish propensity of the honest people of Germany for plunging loudly into confidences. With nothing to say they were always talking! Would their chatter never cease?--As well bid frogs in a pond be silent.