Deutsche Liebe: aus den Papieren eines Fremdlings..F.A. Brockhaus., 1857 - 175 pages |
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Abend alte Augen Augenblick Bild Blätter blaue Blick Blume breast Brust cher crêatûr dachte Dasein denken Deutsche Liebe Dichter dieſem einmal einst endlich Erde Erinnerung ersten ewigen Fenster Finger Frau fremden Freund fühlen fühlte Fürstin ganze Gedanken gefaßt Gefühl Geist gelebt Genuß Gesicht glast glauben Gott Göttlichen Gräfin Groschen guter Engel Hand hast Hause heart Herz Himmel Hofrath hohen hörte inspirirt irdischen Jahren jezt Kind konnte laß laſſen Leben lezte lich Licht liebte ließ Mädchen Mann Maria Menschen menschliche Morgen muß müſſen mußt mußte Mutter Nacht Nausikaa öffnet plöglich recht Ring Ruhe Ruhebett sagen sagte ſah schien Schildwach Schloffe Schloß Schloſſe Seele sehen ſei ſein ſelbſt Seligkeit ſie Silberpappel sollte sprach stand Tage thee Theologie Thränen thun Thür tief Tirol troß Trost unendliche unsere Vater Veilchen viel voller vorüber wahr Wahrheit weiß weißt Welt Wesen wieder wirklich wissen wollte Wordsworth Worte Zimmer zwei
Popular passages
Page 125 - And yet my eyes are filled with tears. With earnest feeling I shall pray For thee when I am far away; For never saw I mien or face In which more plainly I could trace Benignity and home-bred sense Ripening in perfect innocence. Here scattered like a random seed...
Page 86 - Yet still, from time to time, vague and forlorn, From the soul's subterranean depth upborne As from an infinitely distant land, Come airs, and floating echoes, and convey A melancholy into all our day.
Page 124 - These trees, a veil just half withdrawn; This fall of water, that doth make A murmur near the silent lake...
Page 126 - For thee, who art so beautiful? 0 happy pleasure! here to dwell Beside thee in some heathy dell; Adopt your homely ways, and dress, A Shepherd, thou a Shepherdess ! But I could frame a wish for thee More like a grave reality: Thou art to me but as a wave Of the wild sea; and I would have Some claim upon thee, if I could, Though but of common neighbourhood.
Page 82 - And let me read there, love ! thy inmost soul. Alas ! is even love too weak To unlock the heart, and let it speak...
Page 126 - Soft smiles, by human kindness bred! And seemliness complete, that sways Thy courtesies, about thee plays; With no restraint, but such as springs From quick and eager visitings Of thoughts that lie beyond the reach Of thy few words of English speech: A bondage sweetly brooked, a strife That gives thy gestures grace and life!
Page 87 - A bolt is shot back somewhere in our breast, And a lost pulse of feeling stirs again. The eye sinks inward, and the heart lies plain, And what we mean, we say, and what we would, we know. A man becomes aware of his life's flow, And hears its winding murmur, and he sees The meadows where it glides, the sun, the breeze.
Page 85 - But deep enough, alas! none ever mines. And we have been on many thousand lines, And we have shown, on each, spirit and power; But hardly have we, for one little hour, Been on our own line, have we been ourselves...
Page 84 - His genuine self, and force him to obey Even in his own despite his being's law, Bade through the deep recesses of our breast The unregarded river of our life Pursue with indiscernible flow its way; And that we should not see The buried stream, and seem to be Eddying at large in blind uncertainty, Though driving on with it eternally.
Page 83 - Trick'd in disguises, alien to the rest Of men, and alien to themselves — and yet The same heart beats in every human breast! But we, my love!