The Moral Poet.

Man is in truth a poor creature, I know it, and fain would forget it;
Therefore (how sorry I am!) came I, alas, unto thee!

Friedrich Schiller

Friedrich Schiller was a renowned German poet, philosopher, physician, historian, and playwright. Born on November 10, 1759, in Marbach am Neckar, and passing away on May 9, 1805, in Weimar, Schiller is considered one of the most important figures in German literature. His works, including 'Ode to Joy' and 'William Tell', have left a lasting impact on Western literature and thought.

Friedrich Schiller

The Flowers.

Friedrich Schiller, Simple Poetry

The Celebrated Woman. An Epistle By A Married Man To A Fellow-Sufferer.

Friedrich Schiller, Simple Poetry

The Ideal Of Woman. To Amanda.

Friedrich Schiller, Simple Poetry

To Minna.

Friedrich Schiller, Simple Poetry

English

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The Moral Force.

If thou feelest not the beautiful, still thou with reason canst will it;
And as a spirit canst do, that which as man thou canst not.

Friedrich Schiller

To The Poet.

Let thy speech be to thee what the body is to the loving;
Beings it only can part, beings it only can join.

Friedrich Schiller

Man's Dignity.

I am a man! Let every one
Who is a man, too, spring
With joy beneath God's shining sun,
And leap on high, and sing!

To God's own image fair on earth
Its stamp I've power to show;
Down to the front, where heaven has birth
With boldness I dare go.

'Tis well that I both dare and can!
When I a maiden see,
A voice exclaims: thou art a man!
I kiss her tenderly.

And redder then the maiden grows,
Her bodice seems too tight
That I'm a man the maiden knows,
Her bodice therefore's tight.

Will she, perchance, for pity cry,
If unawares she's caught?
She finds that I'm a man then, why
By her is pity sought?

I am a man; and if alone
She sees me drawing near,
I make the emperor's daughter run,
Though ragged I ap...

Friedrich Schiller

To A World-Reformer.

"I Have sacrificed all," thou sayest, "that man I might succor;
Vain the attempt; my reward was persecution and hate."
Shall I tell thee, my friend, how I to humor him manage?
Trust the proverb! I ne'er have been deceived by it yet.
Thou canst not sufficiently prize humanity's value;
Let it be coined in deed as it exists in thy breast.
E'en to the man whom thou chancest to meet in life's narrow pathway,
If he should ask it of thee, hold forth a succoring hand.
But for rain and for dew, for the general welfare of mortals,
Leave thou Heaven to care, friend, as before, so e'en now.

Friedrich Schiller

To The Muse.

What I had been without thee, I know not yet, to my sorrow
See I what, without thee, hundreds and thousands now are.

Friedrich Schiller

The Sublime Subject.

'Tis thy Muse's delight to sing God's pity to mortals;
But, that they pitiful are, is it a matter for song?

Friedrich Schiller