The Garlands.

Klopstock would lead us away from Pindus; no longer for laurel
May we be eager the homely acorn alone must content us;
Yet he himself his more-than-epic crusade is conducting
High on Golgotha's summit, that foreign gods he may honour!
Yet, on what hill he prefers, let him gather the angels together,
Suffer deserted disciples to weep o'er the grave of the just one:
There where a hero and saint hath died, where a bard breath'd his numbers,
Both for our life and our death an ensample of courage resplendent
And of the loftiest human worth to bequeath, ev'ry nation
There will joyously kneel in devotion ecstatic, revering
Thorn and laurel garland, and all its charms and its tortures.

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe was a German writer, poet, playwright, and natural philosopher, born on August 28, 1749, and died on March 22, 1832. He is considered one of the most important literary figures of the modern era. Goethe's best-known work, 'Faust,' is a profound exploration of human ambition, desire, and redemption. His contributions extend beyond literature into various fields, including science and politics. His writings and thoughts have had a lasting influence on Western culture.

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Ballad Of The Banished And Returning Count.

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Simple Poetry

A Plan The Muses Entertained.

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Simple Poetry

The Loving One Once More.

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Simple Poetry

Night Song,

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Simple Poetry

English

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Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

Explanation Of An Ancient Woodcut, Representing Hans Sachs' Poetical Mission.

Early within his workshop here,
On Sundays stands our master dear;
His dirty apron he puts away,
And wears a cleanly doublet to-day;
Lets wax'd thread, hammer, and pincers rest,
And lays his awl within his chest;
The seventh day he takes repose
From many pulls and many blows.

Soon as the spring-sun meets his view,
Repose begets him labour anew;
He feels that he holds within his brain
A little world, that broods there amain,
And that begins to act and to live,
Which he to others would gladly give.

He had a skilful eye and true,
And was full kind and loving too.
For contemplation, clear and pure,
For making all his own again, sure;
He had a tongue that charm'd when 'twas heard,
And graceful and light flow'd ev'ry word;
Which made ...

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

The Gods Of Greece.

Ye in the age gone by,
Who ruled the world a world how lovely then!
And guided still the steps of happy men
In the light leading-strings of careless joy!
Ah, flourished then your service of delight!
How different, oh, how different, in the day
When thy sweet fanes with many a wreath were bright,
O Venus Amathusia!

Then, through a veil of dreams
Woven by song, truth's youthful beauty glowed,
And life's redundant and rejoicing streams
Gave to the soulless, soul where'r they flowed
Man gifted nature with divinity
To lift and link her to the breast of love;
All things betrayed to the initiate eye
The track of gods above!

Where lifeless fixed afar,
A flaming ball to our dull sense is given,
Phoebus Apollo, in his golden car,
In silent glo...

Friedrich Schiller

To Father* Kronos.

Hasten thee, Kronos!
On with clattering trot
Downhill goeth thy path;
Loathsome dizziness ever,
When thou delayest, assails me.
Quick, rattle along,
Over stock and stone let thy trot
Into life straightway lead

Now once more
Up the toilsome ascent
Hasten, panting for breath!
Up, then, nor idle be,
Striving and hoping, up, up!

Wide, high, glorious the view
Gazing round upon life,
While from mount unto mount
Hovers the spirit eterne,
Life eternal foreboding.

Sideways a roof's pleasant shade
Attracts thee,
And a look that promises coolness
On the maidenly threshold.
There refresh thee! And, maiden,
Give me this foaming draught also,
Give me this health-laden look!

Down, now! quicker still, down!<...

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Cantatas.

The flowers so carefully rear'd,

In a garland for him I oft twin'd:
How sweet have they ever appear'd,

When wreath'd for a friend dear and kind.
Then incense sweet ascended,

Then new-horn blossoms rose,
With gentle zephyrs blended

In tones of soft repose.

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Distichs.

Chords are touch'd by Apollo, the death-laden bow, too, he bendeth;

While he the shepherdess charms, Python he lays in the dust.
-
What is merciful censure? To make thy faults appear smaller?

May be to veil them? No, no! O'er them to raise thee on high!
-
Democratic food soon cloys on the multitude's stomach;
But I'll wager, ere long, other thou'lt give them instead.
-
What in France has pass'd by, the Germans continue to practise,

For the proudest of men flatters the people and fawns.
-
Who is the happiest of men? He who values the merits of others,
And in their pleasure takes joy, even as though 'twere his own.

-
Not in the morning alone, not only at mid-day he charmeth;

Even at setting, the sun is still the same glorious planet...

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

In A Word.

Thus to be chain'd for ever, can I bear?

A very torment that, in truth, would be.

This very day my new resolve shall see.
I'll not go near the lately-worshipp'd Fair.

Yet what excuse, my heart, can I prepare

In such a case, for not consulting thee?

But courage! while our sorrows utter we
In tones where love, grief, gladness have a share.

But see! the minstrel's bidding to obey,

Its melody pours forth the sounding lyre,

Yearning a sacrifice of love to bring.

Scarce wouldst thou think it ready is the lay;

Well, but what then? Methought in the first fire

We to her presence flew, that lay to sing.

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe