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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.


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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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delight!

THE HUNTER.

To-day I'm rewarded; Rich booty's afforded

By Fortune so bright. My servant the pheasants, And hares fit for presents

Takes homeward at night; Here see I enraptured In nets the birds captured!--

Long life to the hunter!

Long live his delight!

1789. -----

WHO'LL BUY GODS OF LOVE?

OF all the beauteous wares Exposed for sale at fairs, None will give more delight Than those that to your sight From distant lands we bring. Oh, hark to what we sing! These beauteous birds behold, They're brought here to be sold.

And first the big one see, So full of roguish glee! With light and merry bound He leaps upon the ground; Then springs up on the bougd, We will not praise him now. The merry bird behold,-- He's brought here to be sold.

And now the small one see! A modest look has he, And yet he's such apother As his big roguish brother. 'Tis chiefly when all's still He loves to show his will. The bird so small and bold,-- He's brought here to be sold.

Observe this little love, This darling turtle dove! All maidens are so neat, So civil, so discreet Let them their charms set loose, And turn your love to use; The gentle bird behold,-- She's brought here to be sold.

Their praises we won't tell; They'll stand inspection well. They're fond of what is new,-- And yet, to show they're true, Nor seal nor letter's wanted; To all have wings been granted. The pretty birds behold,-- Such beauties ne'er were sold!

1795. -----

THE MISANTHROPE.

AT first awhile sits he,

With calm, unruffled brow; His features then I see, Distorted hideously,--

An owl's they might be now.

What is it, askest thou? Is't love, or is't ennui?

'Tis both at once, I vow.

1767-9. -----

DIFFERENT THREATS.

I ONCE into a forest far

My maiden went to seek, And fell upon her neck, when: "Ah!"

She threaten'd, "I will shriek!"

Then cried I haughtily: "I'll crush

The man that dares come near thee!" "Hush!" whisper'd she: "My loved one, hush!

Or else they'll overhear thee!"

1767-9. -----

MAIDEN WISHES.

WHAT pleasure to me A bridegroom would be! When married we are, They call us mamma. No need then to sew, To school we ne'er go; Command uncontroll'd, Have maids, whom to scold; Choose clothes at our ease, Of what tradesmen we please; Walk freely about, And go to each rout, And unrestrained are By papa or mamma.

1767-9. -----

MOTIVES.

IF to a girl who loves us truly Her mother gives instruction duly In virtue, duty, and what not,-- And if she hearkens ne'er a jot, But with fresh-strengthen'd longing flies

To meet our kiss that seems to burn,--

Caprice has just as much concerned As love in her bold enterprise.

But if her mother can succeed In gaining for her maxims heed, And softening the girl's heart too, So that she coyly shuns our view,-- The heart of youth she knows but ill;

For when a maiden is thus stern,

Virtue in truth has less concern In this, than an inconstant will.

1767-9. -----

TRUE ENJOYMENT.

VAINLY wouldst thou, to gain a heart,

Heap up a maiden's lap with gold; The joys of love thou must impart,

Wouldst thou e'er see those joys unfold. The voices of the throng gold buys,

No single heart 'twill win for thee; Wouldst thou a maiden make thy prize,

Thyself alone the bribe must be.

If by no sacred tie thou'rt bound,

Oh youth, thou must thyself restrain! Well may true liberty be found,

Tho' man may seem to wear a chain. Let one alone inflame thee e'er,

And if her heart with love o'erflows, Let tenderness unite you there,

If duty's self no fetter knows.

First feel, oh youth! A girl then find

Worthy thy choice,--let her choose thee, In body fair, and fair in mind,

And then thou wilt be blessed, like me. I who have made this art mine own,

A girl have chosen such as this The blessing of the priest alone

Is wanting to complete our bliss.

Nought but my rapture is her guide,

Only for me she cares to please,-- Ne'er wanton save when by my side,

And modest when the world she sees; That time our glow may never chill,

She yields no right through frailty; Her favour is a favour still,

And I must ever grateful be.

Yet I'm content, and full of joy,

If she'll but grant her smile so sweet, Or if at table she'll employ,

To pillow hers, her lover's feet, Give me the apple that she bit,

The glass from which she drank, bestow, And when my kiss so orders it,

Her bosom, veil'd till then, will show.

And when she wills of love to speak,

In fond and silent hours of bliss, Words from her mouth are all I seek,

Nought else I crave,--not e'en a kiss. With what a soul her mind is fraught,

Wreath'd round with charms unceasingly! She's perfect,--and she fails in nought

Save in her deigning to love me.

My rev'rence throws me at her feet,

My longing throws me on her breast; This, youth, is rapture true and sweet,

Be wise, thus seeking to be blest. When death shall take thee from her side,

To join the angelic choir above, In heaven's bright mansions to abide,-- No diff'rence at the change thoult prove.

1767-8. -----

THE FAREWELL.

[Probably addressed to his mistress Frederica.]

LET mine eye the farewell say,

That my lips can utter ne'er; Fain I'd be a man to-day,

Yet 'tis hard, oh, hard to bear!

Mournful in an hour like this

Is love's sweetest pledge, I ween; Cold upon thy mouth the kiss,

Faint thy fingers' pressure e'en.

Oh what rapture to my heart

Used each stolen kiss to bring! As the violets joy impart,

Gather'd in the early spring.

Now no garlands I entwine,

Now no roses pluck. for thee, Though 'tis springtime, Fanny mine,

Dreary autumn 'tis to me!

1771. -----

THE BEAUTIFUL NIGHT.

Now I leave this cottage lowly,

Where my love hath made her home, And with silent footstep slowly

Through the darksome forest roam, Luna breaks through oaks and bushes,

Zephyr hastes her steps to meet, And the waving birch-tree blushes,

Scattering round her incense sweet.

Grateful are the cooling breezes

Of this beauteous summer night, Here is felt the charm that pleases,

And that gives the soul delight. Boundless is my joy; yet, Heaven,

Willingly I'd leave to thee Thousand such nights, were one given

By my maiden loved to me!

1767-8. -----

HAPPINESS AND VISION.

TOGETHER at the altar we In vision oft were seen by thee,

Thyself as bride, as bridegroom I. Oft from thy mouth full many a kiss In an unguarded hour of bliss

I then would steal, while none were by.

The purest rapture we then knew, The joy those happy hours gave too,

When tasted, fled, as time fleets on. What now avails my joy to me? Like dreams the warmest kisses flee,

Like kisses, soon all joys are gone.

1767-8. -----

LIVING REMEMBRANCE.

HALF vex'd, half pleased, thy love will feel, Shouldst thou her knot or ribbon steal; To thee they're much--I won't conceal;

Such self-deceit may pardon'd be; A veil, a kerchief, garter, rings, In truth are no mean trifling things,

But still they're not enough for me.

She who is dearest to my heart, Gave me, with well dissembled smart, Of her own life, a living part,

No charm in aught beside I trace; How do I scorn thy paltry ware! A lock she gave me of the hair

That wantons o'er her beauteous face.

If, loved one, we must sever'd be, Wouldst thou not wholly fly from me, I still possess this legacy,

To look at, and to kiss in play.-- My fate is to the hair's allied, We used to woo her with like pride,

And now we both are far away.

Her charms with equal joy we press'd, Her swelling cheeks anon caress'd, Lured onward by a yearning blest,

Upon her heaving bosom fell. Oh rival, free from envy's sway, Thou precious gift, thou beauteous prey.

Remain my joy and bliss to tell!

1767-9. -----

THE BLISS OF ABSENCE.

DRINK, oh youth, joy's purest ray From thy loved one's eyes all day,

And her image paint at night! Better rule no lover knows, Yet true rapture greater grows,

When far sever'd from her sight.

Powers eternal, distance, time, Like the might of stars sublime,

Gently rock the blood to rest, O'er my senses softness steals, Yet my bosom lighter feels,

And I daily am more blest.

Though I can forget her ne'er, Yet my mind is free from care,

I can calmly live and move; Unperceived infatuation Longing turns to adoration,

Turns to reverence my love.

Ne'er can cloud, however light, Float in ether's regions bright,

When drawn upwards by the sun, As my heart in rapturous calm. Free from envy and alarm,

Ever love I her alone!

1767-9. -----

TO LUNA.

SISTER of the first-born light,

Type of sorrowing gentleness!

Quivering mists in silv'ry dress Float around thy features bright; When thy gentle foot is heard,

From the day-closed caverns then

Wake the mournful ghosts of men, I, too, wake, and each night-bird.

O'er a field of boundless span

Looks thy gaze both far and wide.

Raise me upwards to thy side! Grant this to a raving man! And to heights of rapture raised,

Let the knight so crafty peep

At his maiden while asleep, Through her lattice-window glazed.

Soon the bliss of this sweet view,

Pangs by distance caused allays;

And I gather all thy rays, And my look I sharpen too. Round her unveil'd limbs I see

Brighter still become the glow,

And she draws me down below, As Endymion once drew thee.

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