by Hans Christian Andersen（1853）
Is it really true，” he asked， “that you do not know what poetry is？”
“Of course I know，” replied the cask： “poetry is something that always stand in the corner of a newspaper， and is sometimes cut out； and I may venture to affirm that I have more of it in me than the student has， and I am only a poor tub of the huckster's.”
then the goblin placed the tongue on the coffee mill； and how it did go to be sure！ Then he put it on the butter tub and the cash box， and they all expressed the same opinion as the waste-paper tub； and a majority must always be respected.
“Now I shall go and tell the student，” said the goblin； and with these words he went quietly up the back stairs to the garret where the student lived. He had a candle burning still， and the goblin peeped through the keyhole and saw that he was reading in the torn book， which he had brought out of the shop. But how light the room was！ From the book shot forth a ray of light which GREw broad and full， like the stem of a tree， from which bright rays spread upward and over the student's head. Each leaf was fresh， and each flower was like a beautiful female head； some with dark and sparkling eyes， and others with eyes that were wonderfully blue and clear. The fruit gleamed like stars， and the room was filled with sounds of beautiful music. The little goblin had never imagined， much less seen or heard of， any sight so glorious as this. He stood still on tiptoe， peeping in， till the light went out in the garret. The student no doubt had blown out his candle and gone to bed； but the little goblin remained standing there nevertheless， and listening to the music which still sounded on， soft and beautiful， a sweet cradle-song for the student， who had lain down to rest.
“This is a wonderful place，” said the goblin； “I never expected such a thing. I should like to stay here with the student；” and the little man thought it over， for he was a sensible little spirit. At last he sighed， “but the student has no jam！” So he went down stairs again into the huckster's shop， and it was a good thing he got back when he did， for the cask had almost worn out the lady's tongue； he had given a description of all that he contained on one side， and was just about to turn himself over to the other side to describe what was there， when the goblin entered and restored the tongue to the lady. But from that time forward， the whole shop， from the cash box down to the pinewood logs， formed their opinions from that of the cask； and they all had such confidence in him， and treated him with so much respect， that when the huckster read the criticisms on theatricals and art of an evening， they fancied it must all come from the cask.
But after what he had seen， the goblin could no longer sit and listen quietly to the wisdom and understanding down stairs； so， as soon as the evening light glimmered in the garret， he took courage， for it seemed to him as if the rays of light were strong cables， drawing him up， and obliging him to go and peep through the keyhole； and， while there， a feeling of vastness came over him such as we experience by the ever-moving sea， when the storm breaks forth； and it brought tears into his eyes. He did not himself know why he wept， yet a kind of pleasant feeling mingled with his tears. “How wonderfully glorious it would be to sit with the student under such a tree；” but that was out of the question， he must be content to look through the keyhole， and be thankful for even that.
Is it really true，” he asked， “that you do not know what poetry is？”
“Of course I know，” replied the cask： “poetry is something that always stand in the corner of a newspaper， and is sometimes cut out； and I may venture to affirm that I have more of it in me than the student has， and I am only a poor tub of the huckster's.”
then the goblin placed the tongue on the coffee mill； and how it did go to be sure！ Then he put it on the butter tub and the cash box， and they all expressed the same opinion as the waste-paper tub； and a majority must always be respected.
“Now I shall go and tell the student，” said the goblin； and with these words he went quietly up the back stairs to the garret where the student lived. He had a candle burning still， and the goblin peeped through the keyhole and saw that he was reading in the torn book， which he had brought out of the shop. But how light the room was！ From the book shot forth a ray of light which GREw broad and full， like the stem of a tree， from which bright rays spread upward and over the student's head. Each leaf was fresh， and each flower was like a beautiful female head； some with dark and sparkling eyes， and others with eyes that were wonderfully blue and clear. The fruit gleamed like stars， and the room was filled with sounds of beautiful music. The little goblin had never imagined， much less seen or heard of， any sight so glorious as this. He stood still on tiptoe， peeping in， till the light went out in the garret. The student no doubt had blown out his candle and gone to bed； but the little goblin remained standing there nevertheless， and listening to the music which still sounded on， soft and beautiful， a sweet cradle-song for the student， who had lain down to rest.
“This is a wonderful place，” said the goblin； “I never expected such a thing. I should like to stay here with the student；” and the little man thought it over， for he was a sensible little spirit. At last he sighed， “but the student has no jam！” So he went down stairs again into the huckster's shop， and it was a good thing he got back when he did， for the cask had almost worn out the lady's tongue； he had given a description of all that he contained on one side， and was just about to turn himself over to the other side to describe what was there， when the goblin entered and restored the tongue to the lady. But from that time forward， the whole shop， from the cash box down to the pinewood logs， formed their opinions from that of the cask； and they all had such confidence in him， and treated him with so much respect， that when the huckster read the criticisms on theatricals and art of an evening， they fancied it must all come from the cask.
But after what he had seen， the goblin could no longer sit and listen quietly to the wisdom and understanding down stairs； so， as soon as the evening light glimmered in the garret， he took courage， for it seemed to him as if the rays of light were strong cables， drawing him up， and obliging him to go and peep through the keyhole； and， while there， a feeling of vastness came over him such as we experience by the ever-moving sea， when the storm breaks forth； and it brought tears into his eyes. He did not himself know why he wept， yet a kind of pleasant feeling mingled with his tears. “How wonderfully glorious it would be to sit with the student under such a tree；” but that was out of the question， he must be content to look through the keyhole， and be thankful for even that.