50. L. ON THE OLIVE-MOUNT.
Winter, a bad guest, sitteth with me at home; blue are my hands with his
I honour him, that bad guest, but gladly leave him alone. Gladly do I run
away from him; and when one runneth WELL, then one escapeth him!
With warm feet and warm thoughts do I run where the wind is calm--to the
sunny corner of mine olive-mount.
There do I laugh at my stern guest, and am still fond of him; because he
cleareth my house of flies, and quieteth many little noises.
For he suffereth it not if a gnat wanteth to buzz, or even two of them;
also the lanes maketh he lonesome, so that the moonlight is afraid there at
A hard guest is he,--but I honour him, and do not worship, like the
tenderlings, the pot-bellied fire-idol.
Better even a little teeth-chattering than idol-adoration!--so willeth my
nature. And especially have I a grudge against all ardent, steaming,
Him whom I love, I love better in winter than in summer; better do I now
mock at mine enemies, and more heartily, when winter sitteth in my house.
Heartily, verily, even when I CREEP into bed--: there, still laugheth and
wantoneth my hidden happiness; even my deceptive dream laugheth.
I, a--creeper? Never in my life did I creep before the powerful; and if
ever I lied, then did I lie out of love. Therefore am I glad even in my
A poor bed warmeth me more than a rich one, for I am jealous of my poverty.
And in winter she is most faithful unto me.
With a wickedness do I begin every day: I mock at the winter with a cold
bath: on that account grumbleth my stern house-mate.