Poems by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

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I Picked a rustic nosegay lately,
A plan the Muses entertain'd
The mason's trade Observe them well,
Wherefore ever ramble on?
WHEN the vine again is blowing,
Here where the roses blossom, where vines round the laurels are twining,
Why pacest thou, my neighbour fair,
Go! obedient to my call,
WEEP, maiden, weep here o'er the tomb of Love;
Tell me, eyes, what 'tis ye're seeking;
Artist, fashion! talk not long!
Modest men must needs endure,
At midnight hour I went, not willingly,
Over the meadows, and down the stream,
Flourish greener, as ye clamber,
Oh, enter old minstrel, thou time-honour'd one!
The father's name ye ne'er shall be told
OH, my Theresa dear!
To the grave one day from a house they bore
Flow on, ye lays so loved, so fair,
When by the broad stream thou dost dwell,
Silence deep rules o'er the waters,
The flowers so carefully rear'd,
While he is mark'd by vision clear
On bridges small and bridges great
Two words there 'are, both short, of beauty rare,
Christ is arisen!
Vanish, dark clouds on high,
My senses ofttimes are oppress'd,
Or beasts there have been chosen four
Six among the courtiers favour'd
How happens it that thou art sad,
Could this early bliss but rest
Leave we the pedants to quarrel and strive,
Carelessly over the plain away,
What is yonder white thing in the forest?
OH, would I resembled
The morn arrived; his footstep quickly scared
With many a thousand kiss not yet content,
I ONCE into a forest far
When by the brook his strain
Chords are touch'd by Apollo, the death-laden bow, too, he bendeth;
Each road to the proper end
The queen in the lofty hall takes her place,
Speak, ye stones, I entreat! Oh speak, ye palaces lofty!
Farther and farther away, alas! at each moment the vessel
To this city joy reveal it!
The three holy kings with their star's bright ray,
As a boy, reserved and naughty;
For a praiseworthy object we're now gather'd here,
Far explore the mountain hollow,
Thou dost complain of woman for changing from one to another?
Early within his workshop here,
A Young fig-tree its form lifts high
"Oh, would we were further! Oh, would we were home,
To break one's word is pleasure-fraught,
If the loved one, the well-known one,
AH! who'll e'er those days restore,
Transplant the beauteous tree!
This nosegay, 'twas I dress'd it,
If to her eyes' bright lustre I were blind,
The happiness that man, whilst prison'd here,
Nought more accursed in war I know
ONCE through the forest
Ev'ry youth for love's sweet portion sighs,
Hope provides wings to thought, and love to hope.
Ye shadowy forms, again ye're drawing near,
If I, dearest Lily, did not love thee,
How, in the light of morning,
In this noble ring to-day
Thus roll I, never taking ease,
In the drizzling mist, with the snow high-pil'd,
Who trusts in God,
O'Er field and plain, in childhood's artless days,
TOGETHER at the altar we
He who with life makes sport,
Call on the present day and night for nought,
Hallo there! A glass!
Ah, ye gods! ye great immortals
A village Chorus is supposed to be assembled, and about to commence its festive procession.
If wealth is gone then something is gone!
Thus to be chain'd for ever, can I bear?
How plain and height
Iphigenia In Tauris. - Act The First.
As a fisher-boy I fared
A Dragon-Fly with beauteous wing
She behind yon mountain lives,
Now, gentle reader, is our journey ended,
There lived in the desert a holy man
Water-fetching goes the noble
Thou wert forcibly seized by the hoary lord of the river,
A FAIR bell-flower
There's no menagerie, I vow,
Within a gloomy charnel-house one day
HALF vex'd, half pleased, thy love will feel,
What pulls at my heart so?
On a rocky peak once sat I early,
Who will hear me? Whom shall I lament to?
To be like a fish,
See the rock-born stream!
WHAT pleasure to me
The snow-flakes fall in showers,
My heart is sad,
O thou well-tried in grief,
From heaven there fell upon the foaming wave
Between wheatfield and corn,
How fair doth Nature
Light and silv'ry cloudlets hover
Eros, what mean'st thou by this? In each of thine hands is an hourglass!
Know'st thou the land where the fair citron blows,
AS a butterfly renew'd,
Oh thou cruel deadly-lovely maiden,
IF to a girl who loves us truly
Say, which Immortal
I feel that I'm possess'd of nought,
If thou to be a slave shouldst will,
When through the nations stalks contagion wild,
Heart! my heart! what means this feeling?
The bed of flowers
When on thy pillow lying,
Oh, unhappy stars! your fate I mourn,
To the great archer not to him
Old age is courteous no one more:
He who knows himself and others
I drink fresh nourishment, new blood
Fate now allows us,
Many a guest I'd see to-day,
Weep ye not, ye children dear,
Oh thou sweet maiden fair,
Delos' stately ruler, and Maia's son, the adroit one,
Within a town where parity
God to his untaught children sent
Days full of rapture,
All things give token of thee!
My maiden she proved false to me;
In His blest name, who was His own creation,
Cover thy spacious heavens, Zeus,
'Tis easier far a wreath to bind,
I think of thee, whene'er the sun his beams
I Know not, wherefore, dearest love,
My mistress, where sits she?
It is a fault oneself to praise,
Through rain, through snow,
Hallo there! A glass!
Ha, I am the lord of earth! The noble,
If men are never their thoughts to employ,
Can the Koran from Eternity be?
Wouldst thou the blossoms of spring, as well as the fruits of the autumn,
Margaret. Faust.
Thou go'st! I murmur
My neighbour's curtain, well I see,
When unto thee I sent the page all white,
Should e'er the loveless day remain
Ye black and roguish eyes,
With a bridegroom's joyous bearing,
Oh ye kindly nymphs, who dwell 'mongst the rocks and the thickets,
Let the Greek his plastic clay
In ev'ry hour of joy
Songs are like painted window-panes!
SOUND, sweet song, from some far land,
The soul of man
Fly, dearest, fly! He is not nigh!
Once, methought, in the night hours cold,
Up in th' mountain
Palm Sunday at the Vatican
O'er me how I cannot say,
God gave to mortals birth,
What makes time short to me?
Oh world, with what baseness and guilt thou art rife!
For woman due allowance make!
The mirror tells me, I am fair!
Now I leave this cottage lowly,
When head and heart are busy, say,
DRINK, oh youth, joy's purest ray
Never dry, never dry,
When the primeval
Slumber and Sleep, two brethren ordain'd by the gods to their service,
Once a stranger youth to Corinth came,
I slept, 'twas midnight, in my bosom woke,
To an apple-woman's stall
Here in silence the lover fondly mused on his loved one;
This box, mine own sweet darling, thou wilt find
When in the dance of the Nymphs, in the moonlight so holy assembled,
As at sunset I was straying
ONE Spring-morning bright and fair,
I had a fellow as my guest,
The warder looks down at the mid hour of night,
With eagerness he drinks the treach'rous potion,
Oh, Magdeberg the town!
A boy a pigeon once possess'd,
Ye love, and sonnets write! Fate's strange behest!
When Minerva, to give pleasure
In search of prey once raised his pinions
On Petrarch's heart, all other days before,
Who rides there so late through the night dark and drear?
The stones in the streamlet I make my bright pillow,
There was a wooer blithe and gay,
LET mine eye the farewell say,
The waters rush'd, the waters rose,
Many good works I've done and ended,
That Arabs through the realms of space
Once two persons uninvited
Hard 'tis on a fox's traces
No door has my house,
In spreading mantle to my chin conceald,
A Pool was once congeal'd with frost;
Klopstock would lead us away from Pindus; no longer for laurel
'Neath the shadow
Once I held a well-carved brimming goblet,
Mahadeva,* Lord of earth
Noble be man,
My neighbour, none can e'er deny,
After these vernal rains
ONCE a boy a Rosebud spied,
The plain with still and wand'ring feet,
When Diogenes quietly sunn'd himself in his barrel,
In Thule lived a monarch,
What time our Lord still walk'd the earth,
Why do I o'er my paper once more bend?
The look that thy sweet eyes on mine impress
Do I see a contest yonder?
Whence comes our friend so hastily,
How grave thou loookest, loved one! wherefore so?
Thou art confused, my beloved, at, seeing the thousandfold union
"What tuneful strains salute mine ear
AT first awhile sits he,
There stands on yonder high mountain
"The mountain village was destroy'd;
In the deepest nights of Winter
Early one day, the Muse, when eagerly bent on adornment,
THROUGH field and wood to stray,
IN my boyhood's days so drear
Amor, not the child, the youthful lover of Psyche,
Dreaded Brama, lord of might!
Mighty Brama, now I'll bless thee!
The mist is fast clearing.
I am now, what joy to hear it!
I am the bard known far and wide,
The remembrance of the Good
If thou wouldst live unruffled by care,
If thou wouldst live unruffled by care,
Hush'd on the hill
Many a day and night my bark stood ready laden;
On yonder lofty mountain
No! in truth there's here no lack:
As I calmly sat and span,
The hero's noble shade stands high
Oh prophetic bird so bright,
The stork who worms and frogs devours
Yesterday brown was still thy head, as the locks of my loved one,
All my weary days I pass'd
Even this heavenly pair were unequally match'd when united:
Upon the mead a violet stood,
Fain had I to-day surprised my mistress,
A child refused to go betimes
Thou who comest from on high,
He whom thou ne'er leavest, Genius,
When sounds the trumpet at the Judgment Day,
Though tempers are bad and peevish folks swear,
WITHIN the chamber, far away
A Feast was in a village spread,
One day a shameless and impudent wight
Our rides in all directions bend,
Be void of feeling!
What wondrous noise is heard around!
If Venus in the evening sky
Sir Wit, who is so much esteem'd,
During a heavy storm it chanced
So the winter now closed round them
Fitting perfumes to prepare,
Oh thou token loved of joys now perish'd
Wherefore drag me to yon glittering eddy,
'Midst the noise of merriment and glee,
Hasten thee, Kronos!
Seest thou yon smiling Orange?
The only one whom, Lida, thou canst love,
Should these songs, love, as they fleet,
SISTER of the first-born light,
Over vale and torrent far
A fellow says: "I own no school or college;
HAND in hand! and lip to lip!
And have I lost thee evermore?
Smoothly and lightly the golden seed by the furrow is cover'd;
No one talks more than a Poet;
Bush and vale thou fill'st again
Wilt thou suddenly enshroud thee,
VAINLY wouldst thou, to gain a heart,
Love's torments sought a place of rest,
Love is indeed a glorious prize!
I once was fond of fools,
My trust in nothing now is placed,
Urn and sarcophagus erst were with life adorn'd by the heathen
Waken not Amor from sleep! The beauteous urchin still slumbers;
The tale of the Count our glad song shall record
Quick throbb'd my heart: to norse! haste, haste,
Who the song would understand,
What God would outwardly alone control,
When I was still a youthful wight,
WE young people in the shade
OF all the beauteous wares
Like the vulture
This page a chain to bring thee burns,
Little leaves and flow'rets too,
Within us all a universe doth dwell;
I Have loved; for the first time with passion I rave!