Friedrich Von Schiller
The Philosophical Egotist
Hast thou the infant seen that yet, unknowing of the love Which warms and cradles, calmly sleeps the mother’s heart above Wandering from arm to arm, until the call of passion wakes, And glimmering
Punch Song
Four elements, joined in Harmonious strife, Shadow the world forth, And typify life. Into the goblet The lemon’s juice pour; Acid is ever Life’s innermost core. Now, with the sugar’s All-softening juice, The strength
The Proverbs Of Confucius
Threefold is the march of time While the future slow advances, Like a dart the present glances, Silent stands the past sublime. No impatience e’er can speed him On his course if he delay;
Feast Of Victory
Priam’s castle-walls had sunk, Troy in dust and ashes lay, And each Greek, with triumph drunk, Richly laden with his prey, Sat upon his ship’s high prow, On the Hellespontic strand, Starting on his
The Lay Of The Bell
Fast, in its prison-walls of earth, Awaits the mould of baked clay. Up, comrades, up, and aid the birth The bell that shall be born to-day! Who would honor obtain, With the sweat and
Shakespeare's Ghost – A Parody
I, too, at length discerned great Hercules’ energy mighty, Saw his shade. He himself was not, alas, to be seen. Round him were heard, like the screaming of birds, The screams of tragedians, And,
Hope
We speak with the lip, and we dream in the soul, Of some better and fairer day; And our days, the meanwhile, to that golden goal Are gliding and sliding away. Now the world
Parables And Riddles
I. A bridge of pearls its form uprears High o’er a gray and misty sea; E’en in a moment it appears, And rises upwards giddily. Beneath its arch can find a road The loftiest
The Pilgrim
Youth’s gay springtime scarcely knowing Went I forth the world to roam And the dance of youth, the glowing, Left I in my father’s home, Of my birthright, glad-believing, Of my world-gear took I
The Knights Of St. John
Oh, nobly shone the fearful cross upon your mail afar, When Rhodes and Acre hailed your might, O lions of the war! When leading many a pilgrim horde, through wastes of Syrian gloom; Or
Political Precept
All that thou doest is right; but, friend, don’t carry this precept On too far, be content, all that is right to effect. It is enough to true zeal, if what is existing be
Melancholy To Laura
Laura! a sunrise seems to break Where’er thy happy looks may glow. Joy sheds its roses o’er thy cheek, Thy tears themselves do but bespeak The rapture whence they flow; Blest youth to whom
The Fortune-Favored
Ah! happy he, upon whose birth each god Looks down in love, whose earliest sleep the bright Idalia cradles, whose young lips the rod Of eloquent Hermes kindles to whose eyes, Scarce wakened yet,
The Dance
See how, like lightest waves at play, the airy dancers fleet; And scarcely feels the floor the wings of those harmonious feet. Ob, are they flying shadows from their native forms set free? Or
The Walk
Hail to thee, mountain beloved, with thy glittering purple-dyed summit! Hail to thee also, fair sun, looking so lovingly on! Thee, too, I hail, thou smiling plain, and ye murmuring lindens, Ay, and the