Graves They Say Are Warm'd By Glory;

First, I Thought, Almost Despairing, This Must Crush My Spirit Now; Yet I Bore It, And Am Bearing- Only Do Not Ask Me How.

The Swan, Like The Soul Of The Poet, By The Dull World Is Ill Understood.

My Heart Resembles The Ocean; Has Storm, And Ebb And Flow; And Many A Beautiful Pearl Lies Hid In Its Depths Below.

That Was Only The Beginning - Where One Burns Books, One Will Finally Also Burn People.

When'er Into Thine Eyes I See, All Pain And Sorrow Fly From Me. [ger., Wenn Ich In Deine Augen Sch' So Schwindet All' Mein Leid Und Weh.]