Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe

THIS box, mine own sweet darling, thou wilt find With many a varied sweetmeat’s form supplied; The fruits are they of holy Christmas tide, But baked indeed, for children’s use design’d. I’d fain, in

(* The name of a game, known in English as “Jack’s Alight.”) WE young people in the shade Sat one sultry day; Cupid came, and “Dies the Fox” With us sought to play. Each

[Composed, when 74 years old, for a Polish lady, who excelled in Playing on the pianoforte.] PASSION brings reason who can pacify An anguish’d heart whose loss hath been so great? Where are the

IF Venus in the evening sky Is seen in radiant majesty, If rod-like comets, red as blood, Are ‘mongst the constellations view’d, Out springs the Ignoramus, yelling: “The star’s exactly o’er my dwelling! What

THE warder looks down at the mid hour of night, On the tombs that lie scatter’d below: The moon fills the place with her silvery light, And the churchyard like day seems to glow.

THE waters rush’d, the waters rose, A fisherman sat by, While on his line in calm repose He cast his patient eye. And as he sat, and hearken’d there, The flood was cleft in

MANY a day and night my bark stood ready laden; Waiting fav’ring winds, I sat with true friends round me, Pledging me to patience and to courage, In the haven. And they spoke thus

As a boy, reserved and naughty; As a youth, a coxcomb and haughty; As a man, for action inclined; As a greybeard, fickle in mind. Upon thy grave will people read: This was a

To the great archer not to him To meet whom flies the sun, And who is wont his features dim With clouds to overrun But to the boy be vow’d these rhymes, Who ‘mongst

DAYS full of rapture, Are ye renew’d? Smile in the sunlight Mountain and wood? Streams richer laden Flow through the dale, Are these the meadows? Is this the vale? Coolness cerulean! Heaven and height!

IN the deepest nights of Winter To the Muses kind oft cried I: “Not a ray of morn is gleaming, Not a sign of daylight breaking; Bring, then, at the fitting moment, Bring the

VAINLY wouldst thou, to gain a heart, Heap up a maiden’s lap with gold; The joys of love thou must impart, Wouldst thou e’er see those joys unfold. The voices of the throng gold

IF to her eyes’ bright lustre I were blind, No longer would they serve my life to gild. The will of destiny must be fulfilid, This knowing, I withdrew with sadden’d mind. No further

PAGE. WHERE goest thou? Where? Miller’s daughter so fair! Thy name, pray? MILLER’S DAUGHTER. ‘Tis Lizzy. PAGE. Where goest thou? Where? With the rake in thy hand? MILLER’S DAUGHTER. Father’s meadows and land To

No door has my house, No house has my door; And in and out ever I carry my store. No grate has my kitchen, No kitchen my grate; Yet roasts it and boils it

A PLAN the Muses entertain’d Methodically to impart To Psyche the poetic art; Prosaic-pure her soul remain’d. No wondrous sounds escaped her lyre E’en in the fairest Summer night; But Amor came with glance

FAR explore the mountain hollow, High in air the clouds then follow! To each brook and vale the Muse Thousand times her call renews. Soon as a flow’ret blooms in spring, It wakens many

Do I see a contest yonder? See I miracles or pastimes? Beauteous urchins, five in number, ‘Gainst five sisters fair contending, Measured is the time they’re beating At a bright enchantress’ bidding. Glitt’ring spears

WHEN unto thee I sent the page all white, Instead of first thereon inscribing aught, The space thou doubtless filledst up in sport. And sent it me, to make my joy grow bright. As

FAIN had I to-day surprised my mistress, But soon found I that her door was fasten’d. Yet I had the key safe in my pocket, And the darling door I open’d softly! In the

I ONCE was fond of fools, And bid them come each day; Then each one brought his tools The carpenter to play; The roof to strip first choosing, Another to supply, The wood as

WHEN by the broad stream thou dost dwell, Oft shallow is its sluggish flood; Then, when thy fields thou tendest well, It o’er them spreads its slime and mud. The ships descend ere daylight

I AM now, what joy to hear it! Of the old magician rid; And henceforth shall ev’ry spirit Do whate’er by me is bid; I have watch’d with rigour All he used to do,

[Written on the occasion of Goethe’s starting With his friend Passavant on a Swiss Tour.] I DRINK fresh nourishment, new blood From out this world more free; The Nature is so kind and good

WITHIN a town where parity According to old form we see, That is to say, where Catholic And Protestant no quarrels pick, And where, as in his father’s day, Each worships God in his

Dornburg, 25th August, 1828. WILT thou suddenly enshroud thee, Who this moment wert so nigh? Heavy rising masses cloud thee, Thou art hidden from mine eye. Yet my sadness thou well knowest, Gleaming sweetly

[This song was intended to be introduced in A dramatic poem entitled Mahomet, the plan of which was not carried Out by Goethe. He mentions that it was to have been sung by Ali

[written in a post-chaise.] (* In the original, Schwager, which has the Twofold meaning of brother-in-law and postilion.) HASTEN thee, Kronos! On with clattering trot Downhill goeth thy path; Loathsome dizziness ever, When thou

ONCE two persons uninvited Came to join my dinner table; For the nonce they lived united, Fox and crane yclept in fable. Civil greetings pass’d between us Then I pluck’d some pigeons tender For

THE Epigrams bearing the title of XENIA were written By Goethe and Schiller together, having been first occasioned by Some violent attacks made on them by some insignificant writers. They are extremely numerous, but

HERE in silence the lover fondly mused on his loved one; Gladly he spake to me thus: “Be thou my witness, thou stone! Yet thou must not be vainglorious, thou hast many companions; Unto

Up in th’ mountain I was a-sitting, With the bird there As my guest, Blithely singing, Blithely springing, And building His nest. In the garden I was a-standing, And the bee there Saw as

WHAT pulls at my heart so? What tells me to roam? What drags me and lures me From chamber and home? How round the cliffs gather The clouds high in air! I fain would

I. “Incense is hut a tribute for the gods, To mortals ’tis but poison.” THE smoke that from thine altar blows, Can it the gods offend? For I observe thou hold’st thy nose Pray

THE happiness that man, whilst prison’d here, Is wont with heavenly rapture to compare, The harmony of Truth, from wavering clear, Of Friendship that is free from doubting care, The light which in stray

MANY a guest I’d see to-day, Met to taste my dishes! Food in plenty is prepar’d, Birds, and game, and fishes. Invitations all have had, All proposed attending. Johnny, go and look around! Are

THESE are the most singular of all the Poems Of Goethe, and to many will appear so wild and fantastic, as to Leave anything but a pleasing impression. Those at the beginning, Addressed to

HALF vex’d, half pleased, thy love will feel, Shouldst thou her knot or ribbon steal; To thee they’re much I won’t conceal; Such self-deceit may pardon’d be; A veil, a kerchief, garter, rings, In

[This Cantata was written for Prince Frederick Of Gotha, and set to music by Winter, the Prince singing the part Of Rinaldo. See the Annalen.] (* See Tasso’s Gerusalemme Liberata, Canto XVI.) CHORUS. To

HOPE provides wings to thought, and love to hope. Rise up to Cynthia, love, when night is clearest, And say, that as on high her figure changeth, So, upon earth, my joy decays and

IF to a girl who loves us truly Her mother gives instruction duly In virtue, duty, and what not, And if she hearkens ne’er a jot, But with fresh-strengthen’d longing flies To meet our

THE LADY. IN the small and great world too, What most charms a woman’s heart? It is doubtless what is new, For its blossoms joy impart; Nobler far is what is true, For fresh

THE father’s name ye ne’er shall be told Of my darling unborn life; “Shame, shame,” ye cry, “on the strumpet bold!” Yet I’m an honest wife. To whom I’m wedded, ye ne’er shall be

[This fine poem is introduced in the second Book of Wilhelm Meister.] “WHAT tuneful strains salute mine ear Without the castle walls? Oh, let the song re-echo here, Within our festal halls!” Thus spake

[Written at night on the Kickelhahn, a hill In the forest of Ilmenau, on the walls of a little hermitage where Goethe composed the last act of his Iphigenia.] HUSH’D on the hill Is

SONGS are like painted window-panes! In darkness wrapp’d the church remains, If from the market-place we view it; Thus sees the ignoramus through it. No wonder that he deems it tame, And all his

AFTER ANACREON. [The strong resemblance of this fine poem to Cowley’s Ode bearing the same name, and beginning “Happy insect! What can be,” will be at once seen.] HAPPY art thou, darling insect, Who,

THE stork who worms and frogs devours That in our ponds reside, Why should he dwell on high church-towers, With which he’s not allied? Incessantly he chatters there, And gives our ears no rest;

Lovingly I’ll sing of love; Ever comes she from above. THE FRIENDLY MEETING. IN spreading mantle to my chin conceald, I trod the rocky path, so steep and grey, Then to the wintry plain

OH ye kindly nymphs, who dwell ‘mongst the rocks and the thickets, Grant unto each whatsoe’er he may in silence desire! Comfort impart to the mourner, and give to the doubter instruction, And let