he expressed by the
search for 'the blue flower.' This is from _Heinrich von
Ofterdingen_:

'The cheerful pageant of the glorious evening rocked him in soft
imaginings; the flower of his heart was visible now and then as by
sheet lightning.' He looked at Nature with the mystic's eye, and
described her fantastically:

I am never tired of looking minutely at the different plants.
Growing plants are the direct language of the earth; each new
leaf, each remarkable flower, is a mystery which projects itself,
and because it cannot move with love and longing, nor attain to
words, is a dumb, quiet plant. When in solitude one finds such a
flower, does it not seem as if all around it were brightened,
and, best of all, do not the little feathered notes around it
remain near? One could weep for joy, and there, far from the
world, stick hands and feet into the earth, to take root, and
never more leave so delightful a spot. This green mysterious
carpet of love is drawn over the whole earth.

It is not surprising that night should attract this unnaturally
excited imagination most of all:

Sacred, inexpressible, mysterious Night, delicious balsam drops
from thy hands, from the poppy sheaf; thou upliftest the heavy
wings of the Spirit.[24]

Night and death are delight and bliss.

The fairy-like tale of _Hyacinth and Little Rose,_ with its charming
personifications, is refreshing after all this:

The violet told the strawberry in confidence, she told her friend
the gooseberry, who never ceased to jeer when Hyacinth went, so
the whole garden and wood soon knew it, and when Hyacinth went
out, voices from all sides cried out, 'Little Rose is my
favourite.' When he goes into the wide world to find the land of
Isis, he asks the way of the animals, and of springs, rocks, and
trees, and the flowers smile at him, the springs offer him a
fresh drink, and there is wonderful music when he comes home. 'O
that men could understand the music of Nature!' cries the
listener in the tale. Then follows a description of 'the sweet
passion for the being of Nature and her enchanting raptures,' and
the charm of the poetic imagination which finds 'a great sympathy
with man's heart' in all the external world. For example, in the
breath of wind, which 'with a thousand dark and dolorous notes
seems to dissolve one's quiet grief into one de