The Muse's Mirror

By Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

To deck herself, the Muse, at early morn,
Wander'd adown a wimpling brook, to find
Some glassy pool more quiet than the rest.
On sped the stream, and ever as it ran
It swept away her image, which did change
With every bend and dimple of the wave.
In wrath the Goddess turn'd her from the spot,
Yet after her the brook, with taunting tongue,
Did call -- 'Tis plain thou wilt not see the truth,
All purely though my mirror shows it thee!
But she, meanwhile, stood with indifferent ear,
By a far corner of the crystal lake,
Delightedly surveying her fair form,
And settling flowerets in her golden hair.

M.