Читать книгу The Greatest German Classics (Vol. 1-14) - Various - Страница 1547

The Weavers of the Web—the Fates—but sway

The matter and the things of clay;

Safe from each change that Time to Matter gives,

Nature's blest playmate, free at will to stray

With Gods a god, amidst the fields of Day,

The FORM, the ARCHETYPE,[4] serenely lives.

Would'st thou soar heavenward on its joyous wing?

Cast from thee, Earth, the bitter and the real,

High from this cramp'd and dungeon being, spring

Into the Realm of the Ideal!