All Poems
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To Mignon.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
OVER vale and torrent far
Rolls along the sun's bright car.
Ah! he wakens in his course
Noonday By The Seaside
© Frances Anne Kemble
The sea has left the strand—
In their deep sapphire cup
The waves lie gathered up,
Off the hard-ribbed sand.
Happiness And Vision.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Thyself as bride, as bridegroom I.
Oft from thy mouth full many a kiss
In an unguarded hour of bliss
When A Feller's Itching To Be Spanked
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
W'EN us fellers stomp around, makin' lots o' noise,
Gramma says, "There's certain times comes to little boys
Petition.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
OH thou sweet maiden fair,
Thou with the raven hair,Why to the window go?While gazing down below,
Art standing vainly there?Oh, if thou stood'st for me,
And lett'st the latch but fly,How happy should I be!
Ode To The Departing Year
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
I.
Spirit who sweepest the wild harp of Time!
It is most hard, with an untroubled ear
Thy dark inwoven harmonies to hear!
Gipsy Song.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
IN the drizzling mist, with the snow high-pil'd,
In the Winter night, in the forest wild,
I heard the wolves with their ravenous howl,
I heard the screaming note of the owl:
Eclogue:--Come And Zee Us In The Zummer
© William Barnes
Well now, I do hope we shall vind ye
Come soon, wi' your childern behind ye,
To Stowe, while o' bwoth zides o' hedges,
The zunsheen do glow in the zummer.
Ergo Bibamus!
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Remember then: ERGO BIBAMUS!
In truth 'tis an old, 'tis an excellent word,
With its sound so befitting each bosom is stirr'd,
And an echo the festal hall filling is heard,
" by William Shakespeare">Sonnet 105: "Let not my love be called idolatry,..."
© William Shakespeare
Let not my love be called idolatry,
Nor my beloved as an idol show,
The Remembrance Of The Good
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
THE remembrance of the Good
Keep us ever glad in mood.
For Ever.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
The wise,--the bard alone in visions fair,--
In my best hours I found in her all this,
And made mine own, to mine exceeding bliss.
The Minstrel.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Within our festal halls!"
Thus spake the king, the page out-hied;
The boy return'd; the monarch cried:
Authors.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
His throbbing heart brooks no delaying.
His maiden then comes--oh, what ecstasy!
Thy flowers thou giv'st for one glance of her eye!
What Spain Was Like
© Pablo Neruda
All your confinement, your animal isolation
While you are still conscious
Surrounded by the abstract stones of silence,
Your rough wine, your smooth wine
Your violent and dangerous vineyards.
