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One of the ancients,once said that poetry is "the mirror of the perfect soul." Instead of simply writing down travel notes or, not really thinking about the consequences, expressing your thoughts, memories or on paper, the poetic soul needs to seriously work hard to clothe the perfect content in an even more perfect poetic form.
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What is poetry?


Reading books RomanceThe unity of form and content is what distinguishes poetry from other areas of creativity. However, this is precisely what titanic work implies.
Not every citizen can become a poet. If almost every one of us, at different times, under the influence of certain reasons or trends, was engaged in writing his thoughts, then it is unlikely that the vast majority will be able to admit to themselves that they are a poet.
Genre of poetry touches such strings in the human soul, the existence of which a person either didn’t suspect, or lowered them to the very bottom, intending to give them delight.


There are poets whose work, without exaggeration, belongs to the treasures of human thought and rightly is a world heritage. In our electronic library you will find a wide variety of poetry.
Opening a new collection of poems, the reader thus discovers a new world, a new thought, a new form. Rereading the classics, a person receives a magnificent aesthetic pleasure, which doesn’t disappear with the slamming of the book, but accompanies him for a very long time like a Muse. And it isn’t at all necessary to be a poet in order for the Muse to visit you. It is enough to pick up a volume, inside of which is Poetry. Be with us on our website.

Read books online » Poetry » The Poems of Goethe by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (ebook reader with highlight function txt) 📖

Book online «The Poems of Goethe by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (ebook reader with highlight function txt) 📖». Author Johann Wolfgang von Goethe



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guzzle At thy hoard, take care to spread it

Suited both for bill and muzzle.

1819. -----

THE FOX AND HUNTSMAN.

HARD 'tis on a fox's traces

To arrive, midst forest-glades; Hopeless utterly the chase is,

If his flight the huntsman aids.

And so 'tis with many a wonder,

(Why A B make Ab in fact,) Over which we gape and blunder,

And our head and brains distract.

1821.* -----

THE FROGS.

A POOL was once congeal'd with frost; The frogs, in its deep waters lost,

No longer dared to croak or spring; But promised, being half asleep, If suffer'd to the air to creep,

As very nightingales to sing.

A thaw dissolved the ice so strong,-- They proudly steer'd themselves along, When landed, squatted on the shore, And croak'd as loudly as before.

1821.* -----

THE WEDDING.

A FEAST was in a village spread,-- It was a wedding-day, they said. The parlour of the inn I found, And saw the couples whirling round, Each lass attended by her lad, And all seem'd loving, blithe, and glad; But on my asking for the bride, A fellow with a stare, replied: "'Tis not the place that point to raise!

We're only dancing in her honour; We now have danced three nights and days,

And not bestowed one thought upon her."

* * * *

Whoe'er in life employs his eyes Such cases oft will recognise.

1821.* -----

BURIAL.

To the grave one day from a house they bore

A maiden; To the window the citizens went to explore; In splendour they lived, and with wealth as of yore

Their banquets were laden. Then thought they: "The maid to the tomb is now borne; We too from our dwellings ere long must be torn, And he that is left our departure to mourn,

To our riches will be the successor,

For some one must be their possessor.

1827.* -----

THREATENING SIGNS.

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 woeful prospect, ah, for me! Then calls his neighbour mournfully: "Behold that awful sign of evil, Portending woe to me, poor devil! My mother's asthma ne'er will leave her, My child is sick with wind and fever; I dread the illness of my wife, A week has pass'd, devoid of strife,-- And other things have reach'd my ear; The Judgment Day has come, I fear!"

His neighbour answered: "Friend, you're right! Matters look very had to-night. Let's go a street or two, though, hence, And gaze upon the stars from thence."-- No change appears in either case. Let each remain then in his place, And wisely do the best he can, Patient as any other man.

1821.* -----

THE BUYERS.

To an apple-woman's stall

Once some children nimbly ran; Longing much to purchase all, They with joyous haste began Snatching up the piles there raised, While with eager eyes they gazed On the rosy fruit so nice; But when they found out the price, Down they threw the whole they'd got, Just as if they were red hot.

* * * * *

The man who gratis will his goods supply Will never find a lack of folks to buy!

1820. -----

THE MOUNTAIN VILLAGE.

"THE mountain village was destroy'd; But see how soon is fill'd the void! Shingles and boards, as by magic arise, The babe in his cradle and swaddling-clothes lies; How blest to trust to God's protection!"

Behold a wooden new erection, So that, if sparks and wind but choose, God's self at such a game must lose!

1821.* -----

SYMBOLS.

PALM Sunday at the Vatican

They celebrate with palms; With reverence bows each holy man,

And chaunts the ancient psalms. Those very psalms are also sung

With olive boughs in hand, While holly, mountain wilds among,

In place of palms must stand: In fine, one seeks some twig that's green,

And takes a willow rod, So that the pious man may e'en

In small things praise his God.

And if ye have observed it well,

To gain what's fit ye're able, If ye in faith can but excel;

Such are the myths of fable.

1827.* -----

THREE PALINODIAS.

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 what does this portend? Mankind deem incense to excel

Each other earthly thing, So he that cannot bear its smell,

No incense e'er should bring.

With unmoved face by thee at least

To dolls is homage given; If not obstructed by the priest,

The scent mounts up to heaven.

1827.*

II

CONFLICT OF WIT AND BEAUTY.

SIR Wit, who is so much esteem'd,

And who is worthy of all honour, Saw Beauty his superior deem'd

By folks who loved to gaze upon her; At this he was most sorely vex'd.

Then came Sir Breath (long known as fit

To represent the cause of wit),

Beginning, rudely, I admit, To treat the lady with a text. To this she hearken'd not at all, But hasten'd to his principal: "None are so wise, they say, as you,-- Is not the world enough for two?

If you are obstinate, good-bye! If wise, to love me you will try, For be assured the world can ne'er Give birth to a more handsome pair."

1827.*

=====

FAIR daughters were by Beauty rear'd,

Wit had but dull sons for his lot; So for a season it appear'd

Beauty was constant, Wit was not. But Wit's a native of the soil,

So he return'd, work'd, strove amain, And found--sweet guerdon for his toil!--

Beauty to quicken him again.

1827.*

III.

RAIN AND RAINBOW.

DURING a heavy storm it chanced That from his room a cockney glanced At the fierce tempest as it broke, While to his neighbour thus he spoke: "The thunder has our awe inspired, Our barns by lightning have been fired,-- Our sins to punish, I suppose; But in return, to soothe our woes, See how the rain in torrents fell, Making the harvest promise well! But is't a rainbow that I spy Extending o'er the dark-grey sky? With it I'm sure we may dispense, The colour'd cheat! The vain pretence!" Dame Iris straightway thus replied: "Dost dare my beauty to deride? In realms of space God station'd me A type of better worlds to be To eyes that from life's sorrows rove In cheerful hope to Heav'n above, And, through the mists that hover here God and his precepts blest revere. Do thou, then, grovel like the swine, And to the ground thy snout confine, But suffer the enlighten'd eye To feast upon my majesty."

1827.*

VALEDICTION.

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 trestles using,

To move it by-and-by, While here and there they ran,

And knock'd against each other; To fret I soon began,

My anger could not smother, So cried, "Get out, ye fools!"

At this they were offended Then each one took his tools,

And so our friendship ended.

Since that, I've wiser been,

And sit beside my door; When one of them is seen,

I cry, "Appear no more!" "Hence, stupid knave!" I bellow:

At this he's angry too: "You impudent old fellow!

And pray, sir, who are you? Along the streets we riot,

And revel at the fair; But yet we're pretty quiet,

And folks revile us ne'er. Don't call us names, then, please!"-- At length I meet with ease,

For now they leave my door-- 'Tis better than before!

1827.* -----

THE COUNTRY SCHOOLMASTER.

I.

A MASTER of a country school Jump'd up one day from off his stool, Inspired with firm resolve to try To gain the best society; So to the nearest baths he walk'd, And into the saloon he stalk'd. He felt quite. startled at the door, Ne'er having seen the like before. To the first stranger made he now A very low and graceful bow, But quite forgot to bear in mind That people also stood behind; His left-hand neighbor's paunch he struck A grievous blow, by great ill luck; Pardon for this he first entreated, And then in haste his bow repeated. His right hand neighbor next he hit, And begg'd him, too, to pardon it; But on his granting his petition, Another was in like condition; These compliments he paid to all, Behind, before, across the hall; At length one who could stand no more, Show'd him impatiently the door.

* * * *

May many, pond'ring on their crimes, A moral draw from this betimes!

II.

As he proceeded on his way He thought, "I was too weak to-day; To bow I'll ne'er again be seen; For goats will swallow what is green." Across the fields he now must speed, Not over stumps and stones, indeed, But over meads and cornfields sweet, Trampling down all with clumsy feet. A farmer met him by-and-by, And didn't

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