All Poems
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Trilogy of Passion: III. ATONEMENT.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Eternal beauty has its fruit to bear;
The eye grows moist, in yearnings blest reveres
The godlike worth of music as of tears.
The Slavery Of Greece
© George Canning
Unrivall'd Greece! thou ever honor'd name,
Thou nurse of heroes dear to deathless fame!
Though now to worth, to honor all unknown,
Thy lustre faded, and thy glories flown;
Yet still shall Memory, with reverted eye,
Trace thy past worth, and view thee with a sigh.
To The Grasshopper.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
[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.]
With A Golden Necklace.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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 neverIf thou shouldst greater scruples show.1775.*
When Nobody Listens
© Franklin Pierce Adams
_At not at all infrequent spells
I hear--and so do you--
The tales that everybody tells
And no one listens to._
The Fox And Crane.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
ONCE two persons uninvitedCame to join my dinner table;
For the nonce they lived united,Fox and crane yclept in fable.Civil greetings pass'd between usThen I pluck'd some pigeons tender
For the fox of jackal-genius,Adding grapes in full-grown splendour.Long-neck'd flasks I put as dishesFor the crane, without delaying,
Fill'd with gold and silver fishes,In the limpid water playing.Had ye witness'd Reynard plantedAt his flat plate, all demurely,
The Mountain Castle.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
THERE stands on yonder high mountainA castle built of yore,
Where once lurked horse and horsemanIn rear of gate and of door.Now door and gate are in ashes,And all around is so still;
And over the fallen ruinsI clamber just as I will.Below once lay a cellar,With costly wines well stor'd;
No more the glad maid with her pitcherDescends there to draw from the hoard.No longer the goblet she placesBefore the guests at the feast;
The Vanity of Human Wishes: The Tenth Satire of Juvenal, Imitated by Samuel Johnson
© Samuel Johnson
Yet still the gen'ral Cry the Skies assails
And Gain and Grandeur load the tainted Gales;
Few know the toiling Statesman's Fear or Care,
Th' insidious Rival and the gaping Heir.
The Heathrose.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Heathrose fair and tender,
All array'd in youthful pride,--
Quickly to the spot he hied,
Daphne to Apollo. Imitated From The First Book Of Ovid's Metamorphosis
© Matthew Prior
Daphne aside]
This care is for himself as pure as death;
One mile has put the fellow out of breath:
He'll never go, I'll lead him th' other round;
Washy he is, perhaps not over sound.
The Same.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
[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.]
The Sea-voyage.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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.
Sonnet XXXIII. To The Naiad Of The Arun
© Charlotte Turner Smith
GO, rural Naiad! wind thy stream along
Through woods and wilds: then seek the ocean caves
Where sea-nymphs meet their coral rocks among,
To boast the various honours of their waves!
True Enjoyment.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
To join the angelic choir above,
In heaven's bright mansions to abide,--
No diff'rence at the change thoult prove.
The Glimpse
© George Herbert
Whither away, Delight?
Thou cam'st but now; wilt thou so soon depart,
And give me up to night?
For many weeks of lingring pain and smart
But one half hour of comfort for my heart?
Answers In A Game Of Questions.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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 blossoms it can shootEven in the time of fruit.THE YOUNG GENTLEMAN.With the Nymphs in wood and caveParis was acquainted well,
Till Zeus sent, to make him rave,Three of those in Heav'n who dwell;
To My Sister
© Forough Farrokhzad
Sister, rise up after your freedom,
why are you quiet?
rise up because henceforth
you have to imbibe the blood of tyrannical men.
Idyll.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
And dances' soft measure,
With rapture commingled
And sweet choral song.
