Our Goethe's friend, Bettine, I have the second sight! The stone upon his grave is white, The funeral stone between ye; And in thy mirror thou hast viewed Some change as hardly understood. VIII. Where's childhood? where is Goethe? The tears are in thine eyes. Nay, thou shalt yet reorganize Thy maidenhood of beauty In his own glory, which is smooth Of wrinkles and sublime in youth. IX. The poet's arms have wound thee, He breathes upon thy brow, He lifts thee upward in the glow Of his great genius round thee,-- The childlike poet undefiled Preserving evermore THE CHILD. _MAN AND NATURE._ A sad man on a summer day Did look upon the earth and say-- "Purple cloud the hill-top binding; Folded hills the valleys wind in; Valleys with fresh streams among you; Streams with bosky trees along you; Trees with many birds and blossoms; Birds with music-trembling bosoms; Blossoms dropping dews that wreathe you To your fellow flowers beneath you; Flowers that constellate on earth; Earth that shakest to the mirth Of the merry Titan Ocean, All his shining hair in motion! Why am I thus the only one Who can be dark beneath the sun?" But when the summer day was past, He looked to heaven and smiled at last, Self-answered so-- "Because, O cloud, Pressing with thy crumpled shroud Heavily on mountain top,-- Hills that almost seem to drop Stricken with a misty death To the valleys underneath,-- Valleys sighing with the torrent,-- Waters streaked with branches horrent,-- Branchless trees that shake your head Wildly o'er your blossoms spread Where the common flowers are found,-- Flowers with foreheads to the ground,-- Ground that shriekest while the sea With his iron smiteth thee-- I am, besides, the only one Who can be bright _without_ the sun." _A SEA-SIDE WALK._ I. We walked beside the sea After a day which perished silently Of its own glory--like the princess weird Who, combating the Genius, scorched and seared, Uttered with burning breath, "Ho! victory!" And sank adown, a heap of ashes pale: So runs the Arab tale. II. The sky above us showed A universal and unmoving cloud On which the cliffs permitted us to see Only the outline of their majesty, As master-minds when gazed at by the crowd: And shining with a gloom, the water grey Swang in its moon-taught way. III. Nor moon, nor stars were out; They did not dare to tread so soon about, Though trembling, in the footsteps of the sun: The light was neither night's nor day's, but one Which, life-like, had a beauty in its doubt, And silence's impassioned breathings round Seemed wandering into sound. IV.