At night the wind to blow began Full of waves became the river; Out the light was already going In the peasant's smoky hut. The children sleep; the mother slumbers. On the oven husband lies. Howls the storm; a sudden knocking He hears of some one at the window. "Who's there?"--"Ope the door I say!" "Time eno'; what is the matter? Wherefore comes tramp at night? By the devil art hither brought! Wherefore with you should I bother? Crowded my house and dark is." So saying, he with lazy hand Open throws the window. Rolls the moon from behind the clouds-- And now? A naked man before him stands; From his beard a stream is flowing His glance is fixed, and is open. All about him is frightful dumbness And his hands are dropped down; And to the puffed-out, swollen body Black crabs are fastened. The peasant quickly shuts the window; He recognized his naked guest, Is terror-struck. "May you burst!" Out he whispered and trembled. In great confusion now his thoughts are, And all night he shakes in fever; And till the morrow still the knocking 'S heard on the window and at the gates. Report there was among the people: Saying, since then every year Waiting is the hapless peasant For his guest on the appointed day. In the morning the weather changes And at night the storm arrives, And the dead man is ever knocking By the window, and at the gates. 1828. Poems of Nature. THE BIRDLET. I. 171. God's birdlet knows Nor care, nor toil; Nor weaves it painfully An everlasting nest. Thro' the long night on the twig it slumbers; When rises the red sun Birdie listens to the voice of God And it starts, and it sings. When Spring, Nature's Beauty, And the burning summer have passed, And the fog, and the rain, By the late fall are brought, Men are wearied, men are grieved, But birdie flies into distant lands, Into warm climes, beyond the blue sea: Flies away until the spring. 1824. THE CLOUD. IV. 95. O last cloud of the scattered storm, Alone thou sailest along the azure clear; Alone thou bringest the shadow sombre, Alone thou marrest the joyful day. Thou but recently had'st encircled the sky When sternly the lightning was winding about thee; Thou gavest forth mysterious thunder, With rain hast watered the parched earth. Enough! Hie thyself: thy time hath passed: Earth is refreshed; the storm hath fled; And the breeze, fondling the trees' leaves Forth thee chases from the quieted heavens! 1835. THE NORTH WIND. IV. 94. Why, O wrathful north wind, thou The marshy shrub dost downward bend? Why thus in the distant sky-vault Wrathfully the cloud dost chase?