Belding banner. (Belding, Mich.) 1889-1918, 1900-03-08
THE ROMANCE
OF A POET.

EN-. the Messiah"
He did not know ii was 10 bring him
fame as the first of the great German
poets. He did not even guess that 1t
was TO win love for him.
He published it and then waited.
In Hamburg Meta Moller read the
great poem and was charmed by 1t.
She talked of il; she wrote OF It to her
friends. Every one knew Meta longed
to meet the poet.
Then he came to Hamburg. and a |
friend told him of Meta and showed |
her letters. full of praises of his poem.
His interest was awakened, and he
went 10 see her.
He found n beautiful girl, with long |
haXen braids of hair and deep blue
eyes. The dainty freshness of her fair
face was frightened by the pale blue
bodice she wore.
But Klopstock scarcely noticed her
loneliness He thought only OF her
mind. They talked Of his poem. then
of others. Meta bad read much. She
knew the language of literature of 9th
er countries besides her own.
was gentle and sympathetic. Soon the
poet was telling her of his early strug-
giles and Of his heartaches for lost
love.
"But why do | tell you my troubles,
Fraulein Moller?" he said wonderingly.
81 am almost a stranger to you"
"You are not stranger TO me-" re-
nlied Meta softly. ~ have known you
long time"
For few days they saw each other
constantly. Metals sympathy had cas-
ed the pain at the poets heart When
they parted, it was with promises to
write.
For eight months they correspondent.
but not as lovers. They wrote only Of
poetry. philosophy never of them
selves
Then Herr Klopstock returned to
Hamburg.
Meta" he cried. 81 have learned to
love YOU But the girl was troubled.
"Why do you talk of love- she said.
1--WE are friends. dear friends. but only
friends"
For time he pleaded in vain; then
she yielded so far as to whisper.
wait"
The end of the year came and with
It Meta's lover
She did not meet him as before. with
frank. kind eyes that gazed straight
into his. Instead she looked shyly
down. and the pink in her cheek deep
ened
"My darling" cried the poet, 'you
love me, / see II in your face. Do
not tell me il is not true"
Eyes" she confessed. lit is true.
But" seriously. that is not enough.
My mother will not allow our marriage.
There is some one else. He is rich"
"Who is he?" exclaimed Klopstock
hoarsely. He had turned ashen pale.
His name is August Hoffman. He Is
a merchant and has warehouses and
hips. Alas. he is wealthy" and the
girl sighed
Let me see your mother" said Klop-
stock eagerly.
at is useless" replied Meta sadly.
But she led him TO her mother
The Frau Moller was obdurate.
81 have my daughters welfare at
heart" she said coldly. You have
fame. il is true. but you cannot support
her on that | intend to see that she is
comfortably settled in life"
But we love each other" entreated
; Klopstock Meta would he happier
: with me. even though we had little,
; than in luxury with a man she did not
love-"
; You must allow me to judge what is
! best for my daughter" returned Frau
Moller. much displeased. and. rising.
she waved him from the room.
, AT least" sobbed Meta. when she
babe her lover farewell, II cannot be
forced TO marry Herr Hoffman. If
may not marry you. | can remain sim
gle"
Frau Moller hoped that Meta would
soon yield and accept the easy life and
luxury which were offered to her. But
time passed on. and she still refused to
listen to the man of her mothers
choice.
Then the mothers heart relented. and
she rewarded the two years constancy
of the lovers With her consent the
poet claimed his bride and carried her
off TO a rose embowered cottage on the
banks of the beautiful Rhine.
Theirs is perfect union. Long after
her marriage Meta wrote to a friend:
Il can write and speak Of nothing
now but love. 1t has been all of my
life since first | read my dear hus
bands great poem. | loved him then
though | did not know IT, Now | an
so happy in the fulfillment of my love
His poems are to me like sweetest mu
sic. After all our troubles the great
est joy is ours"
And Herr Klopstock said:
{ THE world calls some of my poem:
X great. but greater, grander. sweetel
a than any OF them is the unwritter
|, poem Of our beautiful lowest. Loui:
J. Star.
n Ether Drinking I'm Eastern Prussia