unnoticed. One day it went among men, for long it was lost there, and it came back defeated, sad. Long it wept, long it strove to say something, and then without having said it—died.
And here is a long row of little sunken mounds. Who lies here?
Ah! yes. These are children. Little, keen, sportive Hopes. There were so many of them, they were so merry, and the soul was peopled with them. But one by one they died. They were so many, and they made such merriment in the soul.
It is quiet in the resting-place, and the leaves of the white birches rustle sadly.
........
But let the dead arise! Ye grim tombs ope wide, crumble to dust ye heavy monuments, ye iron bars give place!
Be it but for one day, for one moment, give freedom to those whom ye are smothering with your weight, and darkness!
Ye think they are dead! Oh, no! they live! They are silent, but they live.
They live!
Let them see the shining of the blue, cloudless sky, let them breathe the pure air of spring, let them be intoxicated with warmth and love.
Come to me my Talent that fell asleep. Why dost so drolly rub thine eyes. Does the sun blind thee? Does it not shine bright indeed? Thou laughest? Oh laugh, laugh on—there is so little
