Die Erde war so lange geizig

The earth kept hoarding up its treasure;
May spent it to a mighty babel
Of all that laughed and voiced its pleasure —
But I, I find I am not able.

The bells' and flowers' speech reprove me,
The birds converse as in the fable;
But all these wonders do not move me,
For life is sad, and joy unstable.

Man bores me, even as the merest
Gossip of friends about the table —
Because she is no longer " dearest, "
But " Madam " . . . Hence my soul wears sable.