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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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"Friend, what meanest thou by gazing On the vacant pall with such composure? Hast thou lost for evermore all pleasure Both in painting cunningly, and forming?" On the child I gazed, and thought in secret: "Would the boy pretend to be a master?"

"Wouldst thou be for ever dull and idle," Said the boy, "no wisdom thou'lt attain to; See, I'll straightway paint for thee a figure,-- How to paint a beauteous figure, show thee."

And he then extended his fore-finger,-- (Ruddy was it as a youthful rosebud) Tow'rd the broad and far outstretching carpet, And began to draw there with his finger.

First on high a radiant sun he painted, Which upon mine eyes with splendour glisten'd, And he made the clouds with golden border, Through the clouds he let the sunbeams enter; Painted then the soft and feathery summits Of the fresh and quicken'd trees, behind them One by one with freedom drew the mountains; Underneath he left no lack of water, But the river painted so like Nature, That it seem'd to glitter in the sunbeams, That it seem'd against its banks to murmur.

Ah, there blossom'd flowers beside the river, And bright colours gleam'd upon the meadow, Gold, and green, and purple, and enamell'd, All like carbuncles and emeralds seeming!

Bright and clear he added then the heavens, And the blue-tinged mountains far and farther, So that I, as though newborn, enraptured Gazed on, now the painter, now the picture.

Then spake he: "Although I have convinced thee That this art I understand full surely, Yet the hardest still is left to show thee."

Thereupon he traced, with pointed finger, And with anxious care, upon the forest, At the utmost verge, where the strong sunbeams From the shining ground appear'd reflected,

Traced the figure of a lovely maiden, Fair in form, and clad in graceful fashion, Fresh the cheeks beneath her brown locks' ambush, And the cheeks possess'd the selfsame colour As the finger that had served to paint them.

"Oh thou boy!" exclaim'd I then, "what master In his school received thee as his pupil, Teaching thee so truthfully and quickly Wisely to begin, and well to finish?"

Whilst I still was speaking, lo, a zephyr Softly rose, and set the tree-tops moving, Curling all the wavelets on the river, And the perfect maiden's veil, too, fill'd it, And to make my wonderment still greater, Soon the maiden set her foot in motion. On she came, approaching tow'rd the station Where still sat I with my arch instructor.

As now all, yes, all thus moved together,-- Flowers, river, trees, the veil,--all moving,-- And the gentle foot of that most fair one, Can ye think that on my rock I linger'd, Like a rock, as though fast-chain'd and silent?

1788. -----

GOD, SOUL, AND WORLD.

RHYMED DISTICHS.

[The Distichs, of which these are given as a specimen, are about forty in number.]

WHO trusts in God, Fears not His rod.

THIS truth may be by all believed: Whom God deceives, is well deceived.

HOW? when? and where?--No answer comes from high; Thou wait'st for the Because, and yet thou ask'st not Why?

IF the whole is ever to gladden thee, That whole in the smallest thing thou must see.

WATER its living strength first shows, When obstacles its course oppose.

TRANSPARENT appears the radiant air, Though steel and stone in its breast it may bear; At length they'll meet with fiery power, And metal and stones on the earth will shower.

WHATE'ER a living flame may surround, No longer is shapeless, or earthly bound. 'Tis now invisible, flies from earth, And hastens on high to the place of its birth.

1815.* ------

PROCEMION.

IN His blest name, who was His own creation, Who from all time makes making his vocation; The name of Him who makes our faith so bright, Love, confidence, activity, and might; In that One's name, who, named though oft He be, Unknown is ever in Reality: As far as ear can reach, or eyesight dim, Thou findest but the known resembling Him; How high so'er thy fiery spirit hovers, Its simile and type it straight discovers Onward thou'rt drawn, with feelings light and gay, Where'er thou goest, smiling is the way; No more thou numbrest, reckonest no time, Each step is infinite, each step sublime.

1816. -----

WHAT God would outwardly alone control, And on his finger whirl the mighty Whole? He loves the inner world to move, to view Nature in Him, Himself in Nature too, So that what in Him works, and is, and lives, The measure of His strength, His spirit gives.

1816. -----

WITHIN us all a universe doth dwell; And hence each people's usage laudable, That ev'ry one the Best that meets his eyes As God, yea e'en his God, doth recognise; To Him both earth and heaven surrenders he, Fears Him, and loves Him too, if that may be.

1816. -----

THE METAMORPHOSIS OF PLANTS.

THOU art confused, my beloved, at, seeing the thousandfold union

Shown in this flowery troop, over the garden dispers'd; any a name dost thou hear assign'd; one after another

Falls on thy list'ning ear, with a barbarian sound. None resembleth another, yet all their forms have a likeness;

Therefore, a mystical law is by the chorus proclaim'd; Yes, a sacred enigma! Oh, dearest friend, could I only

Happily teach thee the word, which may the mystery solve! Closely observe how the plant, by little and little progressing,

Step by step guided on, changeth to blossom and fruit! First from the seed it unravels itself, as soon as the silent

Fruit-bearing womb of the earth kindly allows Its escape, And to the charms of the light, the holy, the ever-in-motion,

Trusteth the delicate leaves, feebly beginning to shoot. Simply slumber'd the force in the seed; a germ of the future,

Peacefully lock'd in itself, 'neath the integument lay, Leaf and root, and bud, still void of colour, and shapeless;

Thus doth the kernel, while dry, cover that motionless life. Upward then strives it to swell, in gentle moisture confiding,

And, from the night where it dwelt, straightway ascendeth to light. Yet still simple remaineth its figure, when first it appeareth;

And 'tis a token like this, points out the child 'mid the plants. Soon a shoot, succeeding it, riseth on high, and reneweth,

Piling-up node upon node, ever the primitive form; Yet not ever alike: for the following leaf, as thou seest,

Ever produceth itself, fashioned in manifold ways. Longer, more indented, in points and in parts more divided,

Which. all-deform'd until now, slept in the organ below, So at length it attaineth the noble and destined perfection,

Which, in full many a tribe, fills thee with wondering awe. Many ribb'd and tooth'd, on a surface juicy and swelling,

Free and unending the shoot seemeth in fullness to be; Yet here Nature restraineth, with powerful hands, the formation,

And to a perfecter end, guideth with softness its growth, Less abundantly yielding the sap, contracting the vessels,

So that the figure ere long gentler effects doth disclose. Soon and in silence is check'd the growth of the vigorous branches,

And the rib of the stalk fuller becometh in form. Leafless, however, and quick the tenderer stem then up-springeth,

And a miraculous sight doth the observer enchant. Ranged in a circle, in numbers that now are small, and now countless,

Gather the smaller-sized leaves, close by the side of their like. Round the axis compress'd the sheltering calyx unfoldeth,

And, as the perfectest type, brilliant-hued coronals forms. Thus doth Nature bloom, in glory still nobler and fuller,

Showing, in order arranged, member on member uprear'd. Wonderment fresh dost thou feel, as soon as the stem rears the flower

Over the scaffolding frail of the alternating leaves. But this glory is only the new creation's foreteller,

Yes, the leaf with its hues feeleth the hand all divine, And on a sudden contracteth itself; the tenderest figures

Twofold as yet, hasten on, destined to blend into one. Lovingly now the beauteous pairs are standing together,

Gather'd in countless array, there where the altar is raised. Hymen hovereth o'er them, and scents delicious and mighty

Stream forth their fragrance so sweet, all things enliv'ning around. Presently, parcell'd out, unnumber'd germs are seen swelling,

Sweetly conceald in the womb, where is made perfect the fruit. Here doth Nature close the ring of her forces eternal;

Yet doth a new one, at once, cling to the one gone before, So that the chain be prolonged for ever through all generations,

And that the whole may have life, e'en as enjoy'd by each part. Now, my beloved one, turn thy gaze on the many-hued thousands

Which, confusing no more, gladden the mind as they wave. Every plant unto thee proclaimeth the laws everlasting,

Every flowered speaks louder and louder to thee; But if thou here canst decipher the mystic words of the goddess,

Everywhere will they be seen, e'en though the features are changed. Creeping insects may linger, the eager butterfly hasten,--

Plastic and forming, may man change e'en the figure decreed! Oh, then, bethink thee, as well, how out of the germ of acquaintance,

Kindly intercourse sprang, slowly unfolding its leaves; Soon how friendship with might unveil'd itself in our bosoms,

And how Amor, at length, brought forth blossom and fruit Think of the manifold ways wherein Nature hath lent to our feelings,

Silently giving them birth, either the first or the last! Yes, and rejoice in the present day! For love that is holy

Seeketh the noblest of fruits,--that where the thoughts are the same, Where the opinions agree,--that the pair may, in rapt contemplation,

Lovingly blend into one,--find the more excellent world.

1797. -----

PROVERBS.

'TIS easier far a wreath to bind, Than a good owner fort to find.

I KILL'D a thousand flies overnight, Yet was waken'd by one, as soon as twas light.

To the mother I give; For the daughter I live.

A BREACH is every day,

By many a mortal storm'd; Let them fall in the gaps as they may,

Yet a heap of dead is ne'er form'd.

WHAT harm has thy poor mirror done, alas? Look not so ugly, prythee, in the glass!

1815.* -----

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 mortals birth,

In his own image too; Then came Himself to earth,

A mortal kind

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