Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

The Muse's Mirror

EARLY one day, the Muse, when eagerly bent on adornment, Follow'd a swift-running streamlet, the quietest nook by it seeking. Quickly and noisily flowing, the changeful surface distorted Ever her moving form; the goddess departed in anger. Yet the stream call'd mockingly after her, saying: "What, truly! Wilt thou not view, then, the truth, in my mirror so clearly depicted? " But she already was far away, on the brink of the ocean, In her figure rejoicing, and duly arranging her garland.