PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION
I have taken advantage of the publication of a Second Edition
Of my translation of the Poems of Goethe (originally published in
1853), to add to the Collection a version of the much admired classical
Poem of Hermann and Dorothea, which was previously omitted by me
In consequence of its length. Its universal popularity, however,
And the fact that it exhibits the versatility of Goethe’s talents
To a greater extent than, perhaps, any other of his poetical works,
Seem to call for its admission into the present volume.
On the other hand I have not thought it necessary to include the
Sketch of Goethe’s Life that accompanied the First Edition. At the
Time of its publication, comparatively little was known in this
Country of the incidents of his career, and my sketch was avowedly
Written as a temporary stop-gap, as it were, pending the production
Of some work really deserving the tittle of a life of Goethe. Not
To mention other contributions to the literature of the subject,
Mr. Lewis’s important volumes give the English reader all the information
He is likely to require respecting Goethe’s career, and my short
Memoir appeared to be no longer required.
I need scarcely add that I have availed myself of this opportunity
To make whatever improvements have suggested themselves to me in
My original version of these Poems.
Related poetry:
- ORIGINAL PREFACE I feel no small reluctance in venturing to give to the public a Work of the character of that indicated by the title-page to the Present volume; for, difficult as it must always be to render satisfactorily Into one’s own tongue the writings of the bards of other lands, The responsibility assumed by the translator […]...
- SOUND, SWEET SONG SOUND, sweet song, from some far land, Sighing softly close at hand, Now of joy, and now of woe! Stars are wont to glimmer so. Sooner thus will good unfold; Children young and children old Gladly hear thy numbers flow. 1820.* – * In the cases in which the date is marked thus (*), it […]...
- Preface This book is not about heroes. English Poetry is not yet fit to speak of them. Nor is it about deeds or lands, nor anything about glory, honour, dominion or power, except War. Above all, this book is not concerned with Poetry. The subject of it is War, and the pity of War. The Poetry […]...
- TO THE COUNTESS GRANVILLE MY DEAR LADY GRANVILLE, THE reluctance which must naturally be felt by any one in Venturing to give to the world a book such as the present, where The beauties of the great original must inevitably be diminished, If not destroyed, in the process of passing through the Translator’s hands, cannot but be felt in […]...
- Makers And Creatures It is a curious experience And one you”re bound to know, though probably In other realms than that of literature, Though I speak of poems now, assuming That you are interested, otherwise, Of course, you wouldn”t be reading this. It is strange to come across a poem In an old magazine, perhaps, and fail At […]...
- Preface to Hunting of the Snark PREFACE If – and the thing is wildly possible – the charge of writing Nonsense were ever brought against the author of this brief but Instructive poem, it would be based, I feel convinced, on the line ”Then the bowsprit got mixed with the rudder sometimes” In view of this painful possibility, I will not […]...
- Dream Song 14: Life, friends, is boring Life, friends, is boring. We must not say so. After all, the sky flashes, the great sea yearns, We ourselves flash and yearn, And moreover my mother told me as a boy (repeatedly) ‘Ever to confess you’re bored Means you have no Inner Resources.’ I conclude now I have no Inner resources, because I am […]...
- The Correspondence School Instructor Says Goodbye To His Poetry Students Goodbye, lady in Bangor, who sent me Snapshots of yourself, after definitely hinting You were beautiful; goodbye, Miami Beach urologist, who enclosed plain Brown envelopes for the return of your very Clinical Sonnet; goodbye, manufacturer Of brassieres on the Coast, whose eclogues Give the fullest treatment in literature yet To the sagging-breast motif; goodbye, you […]...
- AFRICAN WRITINGS If you meet literature from Africa Or even their mentors In such works You realize a trait of madness Pumping into the throbbing poetics. There is a knack in it that sparks alight The nearest shrubs; Intrigue and sensation incomparable. The heart of African literature Pumping wordy blood into fragile young minds. Rejuvenating the African […]...
- Big Hair Ithaca, October 1993: Jorie went on a lingerie Tear, wanting to look like a moll In a Chandler novel. Dinner, consisting of three parts gin And one part lime juice cordial, was a prelude to her hair. There are, she said, poems that can be written Only when the poet is clad in black underwear. […]...
- THREE ODES TO MY FRIEND 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 his friend Behrisch, were written at the age of eighteen, And most of the remainder were composed while he was still […]...
- E. C. Culbertson Is it true, Spoon River, That in the hall-way of the New Court House There is a tablet of bronze Containing the embossed faces Of Editor Whedon and Thomas Rhodes? And is it true that my successful labors In the County Board, without which Not one stone would have been placed on another, And the […]...
- For Lew Welch In A Snowfall Snowfall in March: I sit in the white glow reading a thesis About you. Your poems, your life. The author’s my student, He even quotes me. Forty years since we joked in a kitchen in Portland Twenty since you disappeared. All those years and their moments- Crackling bacon, slamming car doors, Poems tried out on […]...
- To Lucy, Countess of Bedford, with John Donne's Satires Lucy, you brightness of our sphere, who are Life of the Muses’ day, their morning star! If works, not th’ author’s, their own grace should look, Whose poems would not wish to be your book? But these, desir’d by you, the maker’s ends Crown with their own. Rare poems ask rare friends. Yet satires, since […]...
- ON THE NEW YEAR What we sing in company Soon from heart to heart will fly. – THE Gesellige Lieder, which I have angicisled As above, as several of them cannot be called convivial songs, are Separated by Goethe from his other songs, and I have adhered to The same arrangement. The Ergo bibamus is a well-known drinking Song […]...
- Mingus At The Showplace I was miserable, of course, for I was seventeen And so I swung into action and wrote a poem And it was miserable, for that was how I thought Poetry worked: you digested experience shat Literature. It was 1960 at The Showplace, long since Defunct, on West 4th st., and I sat at the bar, […]...
- The New Poetry Handbook 1 If a man understands a poem, he shall have troubles. 2 If a man lives with a poem, he shall die lonely. 3 If a man lives with two poems, he shall be unfaithful to one. 4 If a man conceives of a poem, he shall have one less child. 5 If a man […]...
- My Nose Is Growing Old Yup. A long lazy September look In the mirror Say it’s true. I’m 31 And my nose is growing Old. It starts about 1/2 An inch Below the bridge And strolls geriatrically Down For another inch or so: Stopping. Fortunately, the rest Of the nose is comparatively Young. I wonder if girls Will want me […]...
- TAME XENIA 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 scarcely any of them could be translated Into English. Those here given are merely presented as a specimen. GOD gave to […]...
- Publication is the Auction Publication is the Auction Of the Mind of Man Poverty be justifying For so foul a thing Possibly but We would rather From Our Garret go White Unto the White Creator Than invest Our Snow Thought belong to Him who gave it Then to Him Who bear Its Corporeal illustration Sell The Royal Air In […]...
- THE SAME [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 the breeze; Scarce by the zephyr The trees Softly are press’d; The woodbird’s asleep on the bough. Wait, then, and thou […]...
- She, to Him, II Perhaps, long hence, when I have passed away, Some other’s feature, accent, thought like mine, Will carry you back to what I used to say, And bring some memory of your love’s decline. Then you may pause awhile and think, “Poor jade!” And yield a sigh to me-as gift benign, Not as the tittle of […]...
- No Life can pompless pass away No Life can pompless pass away The lowliest career To the same Pageant wends its way As that exalted here How cordial is the mystery! The hospitable Pall A “this way” beckons spaciously A Miracle for all!...
- We see Comparatively We see Comparatively The Thing so towering high We could not grasp its segment Unaided Yesterday This Morning’s finer Verdict Makes scarcely worth the toil A furrow Our Cordillera Our Apennine a Knoll Perhaps ’tis kindly done us The Anguish and the loss The wrenching for His Firmament The Thing belonged to us To spare […]...
- The Spring (After Rilke) Spring has returned! Everything has returned! The earth, just like a schoolgirl, memorizes Poems, so many poems. … Look, she has learned So many famous poems, she has earned so many prizes! Teacher was strict. We delighted in the white Of the old man’s beard, bright like the snow’s: Now we may ask […]...
- The Night Cometh Work! for the night is coming; Work! through the morning hours; Work! while the dew is sparkling; Work! ‘mid the springing flowers; Work! while the day grows brighter, Under the glowing sun; Work! for the night is coming, Night, when man’s work is done. Work! for the night is coming; Work! through the sunny noon; […]...
- Judson Stoddard On a mountain top above the clouds That streamed like a sea below me I said that peak is the thought of Budda, And that one is the prayer of Jesus, And this one is the dream of Plato, And that one there the song of Dante, And this is Kant and this is Newton, […]...
- Finis Now it’s over, and now it’s done; Why does everything look the same? Just as bright, the unheeding sun, Can’t it see that the parting came? People hurry and work and swear, Laugh and grumble and die and wed, Ponder what they will eat and wear, Don’t they know that our love is dead? Just […]...
- AT MIDNIGHT HOUR [Goethe relates that a remarkable situation He was in one bright moonlight night led to the composition of this Sweet song, which was “the dearer to him because he could not say Whence it came and whither it would.”] AT midnight hour I went, not willingly, A little, little boy, yon churchyard past, To Father […]...
- A SYMBOL (This fine poem is given by Goethe amongst a Small collection of what he calls Loge (Lodge), meaning thereby Masonic pieces.) THE mason’s trade Observe them well, Resembles life, And Watch them revealing With all its strife, How Solemn feeling Is like the stir made And Wonderment swell By man on earth’s face. The Hearts […]...
- Thought OF what I write from myself-As if that were not the resumé; Of Histories-As if such, however complete, were not less complete than the preceding poems; As if those shreds, the records of nations, could possibly be as lasting as the preceding poems; As if here were not the amount of all nations, and of […]...
- The Planet On The Table Ariel was glad he had written his poems. They were of a remembered time Or of something seen that he liked. Other makings of the sun Were waste and welter And the ripe shrub writhed. His self and the sun were one And his poems, although makings of his self, Were no less makings of […]...
- Ai There is a chimp named Ai who can count to five. There’s a poet named Ai whose selected poems Vice Just won the National Book Award. The name “Ai” is pronounced “I” So that whenever I talk about the poet Ai Such as I’m teaching Ai’s poems again this semester It sounds like I’m teaching […]...
- ON THE LAKE [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 That to her breast clasps me! The billows toss our bark on high, And with our oars keep time, While cloudy […]...
- Gratitude “Do you give thanks for this? or that?” No, God be thanked I am not grateful In that cold, calculating way, with blessing ranked As one, two, three, and four, that would be hateful. I only know that every day brings good above” My poor deserving; I only feel that, in the road of Life, […]...
- Memorial Verses Goethe in Weimar sleeps, and Greece, Long since, saw Byron’s struggle cease. But one such death remain’d to come; The last poetic voice is dumb We stand to-day by Wordsworth’s tomb. When Byron’s eyes were shut in death, We bow’d our head and held our breath. He taught us little; but our soul Had felt […]...
- A Following the phone rang at 1:30 a. m. and it was a man from Denver: “Chinaski, you got a following in Denver…” “yeah?” “yeah, I got a magazine and I want some poems from you…” “FUCK YOU, CHINASKI!” I heard a voice in the background… “I see you have a friend,” I said. “yeah,” he answered, […]...
- For the Young Who Want To Talent is what they say You have after the novel Is published and favorably Reviewed. Beforehand what You have is a tedious Delusion, a hobby like knitting. Work is what you have done After the play is produced And the audience claps. Before that friends keep asking When you are planning to go Out and […]...
- Poor Poet ‘A man should write to please himself,’ He proudly said. Well, see his poems on the shelf, Dusty, unread. When he came to my shop each day, So peaked and cold, I’d sneak one of his books away And say ’twas sold. And then by chance he looked below, And saw a stack Of his […]...
- This Chasm, Sweet, upon my life This Chasm, Sweet, upon my life I mention it to you, When Sunrise through a fissure drop The Day must follow too. If we demur, its gaping sides Disclose as ’twere a Tomb Ourself am lying straight wherein The Favorite of Doom. When it has just contained a Life Then, Darling, it will close And […]...