In his poetry there is something touching, simple, and caressingly sweet. He understands the art of condensing an emotion, but he generally dilutes it again, and spoils his effect by repetitions, refrains, or the introduction of inarticulate sounds, such as "Ru, ku, ku, kuh," and the like. Almost all his poems contain single verses of great excellence, but almost all are too long. He has appropriated the diffuseness of the Volkslied. He is distinctly original in such untranslatable verses as the following, taken from the _Dichters Blumenstrauss_ ("Poet's Garland"):-- "Ein verstimmend Fühlgewächschen Ein Verlangen abgewandt, Ein erstarrend Zitterhexchen, Zuckeflämmchen, nie verbrannt. Offnes Räthsel, nie zu lösen, Steter Wechsel, fest gewöhnt, Wesen, wie noch keins gewesen, Leicht verhöhnt und schwer versöhnt. * * * * * * * * Auf dem Kehlchen wiegt das Köpfchen, Blumenglöckchen auf dem Stiel, Seelchen, selig Thaueströpfchen, Das hinein vom Himmel fiel." The highly artificial style of this poem is very characteristic of Brentano. Both as lyric poet and story-teller he is artificial; but his mannerism seldom gives the impression of affectation, it only witnesses to the almost morbid sensibility of his temperament. In _Der Spinnerin Lied_ we have a simple and touching expression of the pain of the long separation from Sophie Mereau. It begins:-- "Es sang vor langen Jahren Wohl auch die Nachtigall, Das war wohl süsser Schall, Da wir zusammen waren. Ich sing und kann nicht weinen, Und spinne so allein Den Faden klar und rein, So lang der Mond wird scheinen. Da wir zusammen waren, Da sang die Nachtigall, Nun mahnet mich ihr Schall Dass du von mir gefahren. So oft der Mond mag scheinen Gedenk ich dein allein; Mein Herz ist klar und rein, Gott wolle uns vereinen."[4] It is right to give Brentano all honour as the creator, in his ballad "Loreley," of a figure which, under the treatment of other poets, notably Heine, has become so living, so truly popular, that one can hardly believe that it is not a genuine legendary figure. It is wrong to do what Griesebach and Scherer have done, namely, turn this praise into a depreciation of Heine's merits, credit him only with the greater literary dexterity, Brentano with the greater capacity of invention. It seems particularly unjust when we remember that Brentano's own finest lyrics are adaptations of popular songs. Read, for example, his beautiful _Es ist ein Schnitter, der heisst Tod._ The poem is to be found under the name _Erntelied_ in _Des Knaben Wunderhorn_, and begins thus:-- "Es ist ein Schnitter, der heisst Tod, Hat Gewalt vom höchsten Gott, Heut wetzt er das Messer, Es schneid't schon viel besser, Bald wird er drein schneiden, Wir müssen's nur leiden; Hüte dich, schön's Blümelein!" Brentano's lines are more polished:--