he moon appeared behind the meadow, mild and modest, and
gradually wrapped itself in a thin cloud of mist as in a veil. Whenever
we contemplate nature in calm meditation, it always lays hold of our
heartstrings. What could have turned my senses more fervently to God,
what could have more easily freed me from the trivial things that
oppress me? I am not ashamed to confess to thee that at that moment thy
image flamed up impetuously in my soul. It is true: Thy radiance pierces
me as the sun pours into the crystal of the grape and, like the sun,
thou dost ripen me with ever increasing fire and ever increasing
purity. * * *

February 23, 1809.

If thy imagination is supple enough to accompany me into all the
recesses of ruined walls, over mountains and chasms, then I shall
venture farther and introduce thee to the recesses of my heart.

I beg thee, therefore, to climb up here, still higher, up three flights
to my room; sit on the blue stool by the green table opposite me. I
merely want to gaze at thee--and, Goethe--does thy imagination still
follow me?--then thou must discover the most constant love in my eyes,
and must draw me lovingly into thy arms, and say, "Such a faithful child
is given me as a reward, as amends, for much! This child is dear to me,
'tis a treasure, a precious jewel that I do not wish to lose." Dost thou
understand? And thou must kiss me, for that is what _my_ imagination
bestows on thine!

I shall lead thee still farther! Step softly into the chamber of my
heart-here we are in the vestibule--utter stillness--no Humboldt--no
architect--no barking dog. Thou art not a stranger; go up and knock; it
will be alone and call to thee "Come in!" Thou wilt find it on a cool,
quiet couch, and a friendly light will greet thee. All will be peace and
order, and thou wilt be welcome! What is that? Heavens! See the flames
shooting up over him! Whence this conflagration? Who can save here? Poor
heart! Poor, suffering heart! What can reason accomplish here? It knows
everything better and yet can not help; its arms drop helpless by its
side. * * *

Good night, good night until tomorrow! Everything is quiet and all in
the house are asleep dreaming of the things they desire when awake; but
I alone am awake with thee. Outside, on the street, all is still. I
should like to be assured that at this moment no soul besides mine is
thinking of thee, that no other heart gives a throb for thee, and that I
alone in the wide worl