Prelude.

          In the Art-Palace on green Isar's strand,
          Before one picture long I kept my seat,
          It held me spellbound by some magic band,
          Nor when my home I sought, could I forget.

          A year elapsed, came winter's frost and snow,
          'Twas rarely now we saw the bright sun shine,
          I plucked up courage and cried: "Be it so!"
          Then southward wandered with those I call mine.

          Like birds of passage built we there a nest
          On a palm-shaded shore, all steeped in light,
          Life was a holiday, enjoyed with zest
          And grateful hearts, the while it winged its flight.

          Oft on the sea's wide purplish-blue expanse,
          With ever new delight I fixed my eyes,
          Alma Tadema's picture, at each glance
          Recalled to mind, a thousand times would rise.

          Once a day dawned, glad as a bride's fair face,
          Perfume, and light, and joy it did enfold,
          Then-without search, flitted from out of space
          Words for the tale that my friend's picture told.

• About Georg Ebers