for the hunt in the early morning):

When I come into the forest, still and silent everywhere,
There's a look of slumber in it, but the air is fresh and cool.
Now Aurora paints the fir tops at their very tips with gold,
And the little finch sits up there launching forth his song of praise,
Thanking for the night that's over, for the day that's just awake
Gently blows the breeze of morning, rocking in the topmost twigs,
And it bends them down like children, like good children when they pray;
And the dew is an oblation as it drops from their green hair.
O what beauties in the forest he that we may see and know!
One could melt away one's heart before its wonders manifold!

The sixth line in the original has a melody that reminds one of
Goethe's early work.

But even amidst the artificial poetry then in vogue, there were a few
side streams which turned away from the main current of the great
poet schools, from the unnaturalness and bombast affected especially
by the Silesians. As Winter says, even the satirists Moscherosch and
Logau were indirectly of use in paving the way for a healthier
condition, through their severe criticisms of the corruption of the
language; and Logau's one epigram on May, 'This month is a kiss which
heaven gives to earth, that she may be a bride now, a mother
by-and-by,' outweighs all Harsdörfer's and Zesen's poetry about
Nature.

But even by the side of Opitz and Fleming there was at least one poet
of real feeling, Friedrich von Spee.[2] With all his mystic and
pietist Christianity, he kept an open eye for Nature. His poems are