Night Thoughts
OH, unhappy stars! your fate I mourn,
Ye by whom the sea-toss'd sailor's lighted,
Who with radiant beams the heav'ns adorn,
But by gods and men are unrequited:
For ye love not,--ne'er have learnt to love!
Ceaselessly in endless dance ye move,
In the spacious sky your charms displaying,
What far travels ye have hasten'd through,
Since, within my loved one's arms delaying,
I've forgotten you and midnight too!
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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April
Eyes tell, tell me, what you tell me,
telling something all too sweet,
making music out of beauty,
with a question hidden deep.
Still I think I know your meaning,
there behind your pupils’ brightness,
love and truth are your heart’s lightness,
that, instead of its own gleaming,
would so truly like to greet,
in a world of dullness, blindness,
one true look of human kindness,
where two kindred spirits meet.
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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The Spirit's Salute
THE hero's noble shade stands high
On yonder turret grey;
And as the ship is sailing by,
He speeds it on his way.
"See with what strength these sinews thrill'd!
This heart, how firm and wild!
These bones, what knightly marrow fill'd!
This cup, how bright it smil'd!
"Half of my life I strove and fought,
And half I calmly pass'd;
And thou, oh ship with beings fraught,
Sail safely to the last!"
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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The Convert
As at sunset I was straying
Silently the wood along,
Damon on his flute was playing,
And the rocks gave back the song,
So la, Ia!
Softly tow'rds him then he drew me;
Sweet each kiss he gave me then!
And I said, "Play once more to me!"
And he kindly play'd again,
So la, la!
All my peace for aye has fleeted,
All my happiness has flown;
Yet my ears are ever greeted
[...] Read more
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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Proverbs
'TIS easier far a wreath to bind,
Than a good owner fort to find.
-----
I KILL'D a thousand flies overnight,
Yet was waken'd by one, as soon as twas light.
-----
To the mother I give;
For the daughter I live.
-----
A BREACH is every day,
By many a mortal storm'd;
Let them fall in the gaps as they may,
Yet a heap of dead is ne'er form'd.
-----
WHAT harm has thy poor mirror done, alas?
Look not so ugly, prythee, in the glass!
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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Restless Love
THROUGH rain, through snow,
Through tempest go!
'Mongst streaming caves,
O'er misty waves,
On, on! still on!
Peace, rest have flown!
Sooner through sadness
I'd wish to be slain,
Than all the gladness
Of life to sustain
All the fond yearning
That heart feels for heart,
Only seems burning
To make them both smart.
[...] Read more
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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Book Of Love - One More Pair
LOVE is indeed a glorious prize!
What fairer guerdon meets our eyes?--
Though neither wealth nor power are thine,
A very hero thou dost shine.
As of the prophet, they will tell,
Wamik and Asia's tale as well.--
They'll tell not of them,--they'll but give
Their names, which now are all that live.
The deeds they did, the toils they proved
No mortal knows! But that they loved
This know we. Here's the story true
Of Wamik and of Asia too.
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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To The Distant One
AND have I lost thee evermore?
Hast thou, oh fair one, from me flown?
Still in mine ear sounds, as of yore,
Thine ev'ry word, thine ev'ry tone.
As when at morn the wand'rer's eye
Attempts to pierce the air in vain,
When, hidden in the azure sky,
The lark high o'er him chaunts his strain:
So do I cast my troubled gaze
Through bush, through forest, o'er the lea;
Thou art invoked by all my lays;
Oh, come then, loved one, back to me!
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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With A Golden Necklace
THIS page a chain to bring thee burns,
That, train'd to suppleness of old,
On thy fair neck to nestle, yearns,
In many a hundred little fold.
To please the silly thing consent!
'Tis harmless, and from boldness free;
By day a trifling ornament,
At night 'tis cast aside by thee.
But if the chain they bring thee ever,
Heavier, more fraught with weal or woe,
I'd then, Lisette, reproach thee never
If thou shouldst greater scruples show.
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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A Parable
I PICKED a rustic nosegay lately,
And bore it homewards, musing greatly;
When, heated by my hand, I found
The heads all drooping tow'rd the ground.
I plac'd them in a well-cool'd glass,
And what a wonder came to pass
The heads soon raised themselves once more.
The stalks were blooming as before,
And all were in as good a case
As when they left their native place.
So felt I, when I wond'ring heard
My song to foreign tongues transferr'd.
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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