| “That time of year thou may’st in me behold, |
| When yellow leaves, or none, or few do hang |
| Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, |
| Bare ruined choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. |
| In me thou seest the twilight of such day, |
| As after sunset fadeth in the west; |
| Which by and by black night doth take away, — |
| Death’s second self, that seals up all in rest. |
| In me thou seest the glowing of such fire, |
| That on the ashes of his youth doth lie; |
| As the death-bed whereon it must expire, |
| Consumed with that which it was nourished by.” |
| Shakspeare. [Sonnet lxxiii.] |
| “Aber zufrieden mit stillerem Ruhme, |
| Brechen die Frauen des Augenblick’s Blume, |
| Nähren sie sorgsam mit liebendem Fleiss, |
| Freier in ihrem gebundenen Wirken, |
| Reicher als er in des Wissens Bezirken |
| Und in der Dichtung unendlichem Kreis.” |
| Schiller. |
| “Not like to like, but like in difference; |
| Yet in the long years liker must they grow, — |
| The man be more of woman, she of man; |
| He gain in sweetness and in moral height, |
| Nor lose the wrestling thews that throw the world; |
| She mental breadth, nor fail in childward care; |
| More as the double-natured poet each; |
| Till at the last she set herself to man, |
| Like perfect music unto noble words.” |
| Tennyson. |
