Translations. - Poems. (From Goethe.)

Poems are painted window-panes: Look from the square into the church— Gloom and dusk are all your gains! Sir Philistine is left in the lurch: Outside he stands—spies nothing or use of it, And nought is left him save the abuse of it. But you, I pray you, just step in; Make in the chapel your obeisance: All at once ‘tis a radiant pleasaunce: Device and story flash to presence; A gracious splendour works to win. This to God’s children is full measure: It edifies and gives them pleasure.