Töchterchenlein, by whom the least became br The greatest title of dear Daughterhood, br Who hast not laid down life, nor spilled thy blood br For me, but throbbed them thro' the living frame br Of duteous days less different than the same, br Yet not too much the same to be construed br In number, that still multiplied thy good, br And, by the figure of a changing name br For changeless love, helped my weak utterance br Of thy desert; as step by step we climb br A height, or by a thousand measure one: br I verse this Poetry which thou hast done, br As he who gazing on a rhythmic dance br Finds even his common speech a little keep the time.