10 Best Famous Remainder Poems

Here is a collection of the top 10 all-time best famous Remainder poems. This is a select list of the best famous Remainder poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Remainder poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of remainder poems.

• All Famous Remainder Poems

 THESE are the most singular of all the Poems 
of Goethe, and to many will appear so wild and fantastic, as to 
leave anything but a pleasing impression. Those at the beginning, 
addressed to his friend Behrisch, were written at the age of eighteen, 
and most of the remainder were composed while he was still quite 
young. Despite, however, the extravagance of some of them, such 
as the Winter Journey over the Hartz Mountains, and the Wanderer's 
Storm-Song, nothing can be finer than the noble one entitled Mahomet's 
Song, and others, such as the Spirit Song' over the Waters, The 
God-like, and, above all, the magnificent sketch of Prometheus, 
which forms part of an unfinished piece bearing the same name, and 
called by Goethe a 'Dramatic Fragment.'

 TO MY FRIEND.

 [These three Odes are addressed to a certain 
Behrisch, who was tutor to Count Lindenau, and of whom Goethe gives 
an odd account at the end of the Seventh Book of his Autobiography.]

FIRST ODE.

TRANSPLANT the beauteous tree!
Gardener, it gives me pain;
A happier resting-place
Its trunk deserved.

Yet the strength of its nature
To Earth's exhausting avarice,
To Air's destructive inroads,
An antidote opposed.

See how it in springtime
Coins its pale green leaves!
Their orange-fragrance
Poisons each flyblow straight.

The caterpillar's tooth
Is blunted by them;
With silv'ry hues they gleam
In the bright sunshine,

Its twigs the maiden
Fain would twine in
Her bridal-garland;
Youths its fruit are seeking.

See, the autumn cometh!
The caterpillar
Sighs to the crafty spider,--
Sighs that the tree will not fade.

Hov'ring thither
From out her yew-tree dwelling,
The gaudy foe advances
Against the kindly tree,

And cannot hurt it,
But the more artful one
Defiles with nauseous venom
Its silver leaves;

And sees with triumph
How the maiden shudders,
The youth, how mourns he,
On passing by.

Transplant the beauteous tree!
Gardener, it gives me pain;
Tree, thank the gardener
Who moves thee hence!

 1767.









SECOND ODE.

THOU go'st! I murmur--
Go! let me murmur.
Oh, worthy man,
Fly from this land!

Deadly marshes,
Steaming mists of October
Here interweave their currents,
Blending for ever.

Noisome insects
Here are engender'd;
Fatal darkness
Veils their malice.

The fiery-tongued serpent,
Hard by the sedgy bank,
Stretches his pamper'd body,
Caress'd by the sun's bright beams.

Tempt no gentle night-rambles
Under the moon's cold twilight!
Loathsome toads hold their meetings
Yonder at every crossway.

Injuring not,
Fear will they cause thee.
Oh, worthy man,
Fly from this land!

 1767.

THIRD ODE.

BE void of feeling!
A heart that soon is stirr'd,
Is a possession sad
Upon this changing earth.

Behrisch, let spring's sweet smile
Never gladden thy brow!
Then winter's gloomy tempests
Never will shadow it o'er.

Lean thyself ne'er on a maiden's
Sorrow-engendering breast.
Ne'er on the arm,
Misery-fraught, of a friend.

Already envy
From out his rocky ambush
Upon thee turns
The force of his lynx-like eyes,

Stretches his talons,
On thee falls,
In thy shoulders
Cunningly plants them.

Strong are his skinny arms,
As panther-claws;
He shaketh thee,
And rends thy frame.

Death 'tis to part,
'Tis threefold death
To part, not hoping
Ever to meet again.

Thou wouldst rejoice to leave
This hated land behind,
Wert thou not chain'd to me
With friendships flowery chains.

Burst them! I'll not repine.
No noble friend
Would stay his fellow-captive,
If means of flight appear.

The remembrance
Of his dear friend's freedom
Gives him freedom
In his dungeon.

Thou go'st,--I'm left.
But e'en already
The last year's winged spokes
Whirl round the smoking axle.

I number the turns
Of the thundering wheel;
The last one I bless.--
Each bar then is broken, I'm free then as thou!

 1767.

 STATES! 
Were you looking to be held together by the lawyers? 
By an agreement on a paper? Or by arms? 

Away! 
I arrive, bringing these, beyond all the forces of courts and arms,
These! to hold you together as firmly as the earth itself is held together. 

The old breath of life, ever new, 
Here! I pass it by contact to you, America. 

O mother! have you done much for me? 
Behold, there shall from me be much done for you.

There shall from me be a new friendship—It shall be called after my name, 
It shall circulate through The States, indifferent of place, 
It shall twist and intertwist them through and around each other—Compact shall they
 be,
 showing new signs, 
Affection shall solve every one of the problems of freedom, 
Those who love each other shall be invincible,
They shall finally make America completely victorious, in my name. 

One from Massachusetts shall be comrade to a Missourian, 
One from Maine or Vermont, and a Carolinian and an Oregonese, shall be friends triune,
 more
 precious to each other than all the riches of the earth. 

To Michigan shall be wafted perfume from Florida, 
To the Mannahatta from Cuba or Mexico,
Not the perfume of flowers, but sweeter, and wafted beyond death. 

No danger shall balk Columbia’s lovers, 
If need be, a thousand shall sternly immolate themselves for one, 
The Kanuck shall be willing to lay down his life for the Kansian, and the Kansian for the
 Kanuck, on due need. 

It shall be customary in all directions, in the houses and streets, to see manly
 affection,
The departing brother or friend shall salute the remaining brother or friend with a kiss. 

There shall be innovations, 
There shall be countless linked hands—namely, the Northeasterner’s, and the
 Northwesterner’s, and the Southwesterner’s, and those of the interior, and all
 their
 brood, 
These shall be masters of the world under a new power, 
They shall laugh to scorn the attacks of all the remainder of the world.

The most dauntless and rude shall touch face to face lightly, 
The dependence of Liberty shall be lovers, 
The continuance of Equality shall be comrades. 

These shall tie and band stronger than hoops of iron, 
I, extatic, O partners! O lands! henceforth with the love of lovers tie you.

 I.

She should never have looked at me
If she meant I should not love her!
There are plenty ... men, you call such,
I suppose ... she may discover
All her soul to, if she pleases,
And yet leave much as she found them:
But I'm not so, and she knew it
When she fixed me, glancing round them,

II.

What? To fix me thus meant nothing?
But I can't tell (there's my weakness)
What her look said!---no vile cant, sure,
About ``need to strew the bleakness
``Of some lone shore with its pearl-seed. 
``That the sea feels''---no strange yearning
``That such souls have, most to lavish
``Where there's chance of least returning.''

III.

Oh, we're sunk enough here, God knows!
But not quite so sunk that moments,
Sure tho' seldom, are denied us,
When the spirit's true endowments
Stand out plainly from its false ones,
And apprise it if pursuing
Or the right way or the wrong way,
To its triumph or undoing.

IV.

There are flashes struck from midnights,
There are fire-flames noondays kindle,
Whereby piled-up honours perish,
Whereby swollen ambitions dwindle,
While just this or that poor impulse,
Which for once had play unstifled,
Seems the sole work of a life-time
That away the rest have trifled.

V.

Doubt you if, in some such moment,
As she fixed me, she felt clearly,
Ages past the soul existed,
Here an age 'tis resting merely,
And hence fleets again for ages,
While the true end, sole and single,
It stops here for is, this love-way,
With some other soul to mingle?

VI.

Else it loses what it lived for,
And eternally must lose it;
Better ends may be in prospect,
Deeper blisses (if you choose it),
But this life's end and this love-bliss
Have been lost here. Doubt you whether
This she felt as, looking at me,
Mine and her souls rushed together?

VII.

Oh, observe! Of course, next moment,
The world's honours, in derision,
Trampled out the light for ever:
Never fear but there's provision
Of the devil's to quench knowledge
Lest we walk the earth in rapture!
---Making those who catch God's secret
Just so much more prize their capture!

VIII.

Such am I: the secret's mine now!
She has lost me, I have gained her;
Her soul's mine: and thus, grown perfect,
I shall pass my life's remainder.
Life will just hold out the proving
Both our powers, alone and blended:
And then, come next life quickly!
This world's use will have been ended.

 I

My love, this is the bitterest, that thou
Who art all truth and who dost love me now
As thine eyes say, as thy voice breaks to say— 
Shouldst love so truly and couldst love me still
A whole long life through, had but love its will,
Would death that leads me from thee brook delay!

II

I have but to be by thee, and thy hand
Would never let mine go, thy heart withstand
The beating of my heart to reach its place.
When should I look for thee and feel thee gone?
When cry for the old comfort and find none?
Never, I know! Thy soul is in thy face.

III

Oh, I should fade—'tis willed so! might I save,
Galdly I would, whatever beauty gave
Joy to thy sense, for that was precious too.
It is not to be granted. But the soul
Whence the love comes, all ravage leaves that whole;
Vainly the flesh fades—soul makes all things new.

IV

And 'twould not be because my eye grew dim
Thou couldst not find the love there, thanks to Him
Who never is dishonoured in the spark
He gave us from his fire of fires, and bade
Remember whence it sprang nor be afraid
While that burns on, though all the rest grow dark.

V

So, how thou wouldst be perfect, white and clean
Outside as inside, soul and soul's demesne
Alike, this body given to show it by!
Oh, three-parts through the worst of life's abyss,
What plaudits from the next world after this,
Couldst thou repeat a stroke and gain the sky!

VI

And is it not the bitterer to think
That, disengage our hands and thou wilt sink
Although thy love was love in very deed?
I know that nature! Pass a festive day
Thou dost not throw its relic-flower away
Nor bid its music's loitering echo speed.

VII

Thou let'st the stranger's glove lie where it fell;
If old things remain old things all is well,
For thou art grateful as becomes man best:
And hadst thou only heard me play one tune,
Or viewed me from a window, not so soon
With thee would such things fade as with the rest.

VIII

I seem to see! we meet and part: 'tis brief:
The book I opened keeps a folded leaf,
The very chair I sat on, breaks the rank;
That is a portrait of me on the wall— 
Three lines, my face comes at so slight a call;
And for all this, one little hour's to thank.

IX

But now, because the hour through years was fixed,
Because our inmost beings met amd mixed,
Because thou once hast loved me—wilt thou dare
Say to thy soul and Who may list beside,
"Therefore she is immortally my bride,
Chance cannot change that love, nor time impair.

X

"So, what if in the dusk of life that's left,
I, a tired traveller, of my sun bereft,
Look from my path when, mimicking the same,
The fire-fly glimpses past me, come and gone?
- Where was it till the sunset? where anon
It will be at the sunrise! what's to blame?"

XI

Is it so helpful to thee? canst thou take
The mimic up, nor, for the true thing's sake,
Put gently by such efforts at at beam?
Is the remainder of the way so long
Thou need'st the little solace, thou the strong?
Watch out thy watch, let weak ones doze and dream!

XII

"—Ah, but the fresher faces! Is it true,"
Thou'lt ask, "some eyes are beautiful and new?
Some hair,—how can one choose but grasp such wealth?
And if a man would press his lips to lips
Fresh as the wilding hedge-rose-cup there slips
The dew-drop out of, must it be by stealth?

XIII

"It cannot change the love kept still for Her,
Much more than, such a picture to prefer
Passing a day with, to a room's bare side.
The painted form takes nothing she possessed,
Yet while the Titian's Venus lies at rest
A man looks. Once more, what is there to chide?"

XIV

So must I see, from where I sit and watch,
My own self sell myself, my hand attach
Its warrant to the very thefts from me— 
Thy singleness of soul that made me proud,
Thy purity of heart I loved aloud,
Thy man's truth I was bold to bid God see!

XV

Love so, then, if thou wilt! Give all thou canst
Away to the new faces—disentranced— 
(Say it and think it) obdurate no more,
Re-issue looks and words from the old mint— 
Pass them afresh, no matter whose the print
Image and superscription once they bore!

XVI

Re-coin thyself and give it them to spend,— 
It all comes to the same thing at the end,
Since mine thou wast, mine art, and mine shalt be,
Faithful or faithless, sealing up the sum
Or lavish of my treasure, thou must come
Back to the heart's place here I keep for thee!

XVII

Only, why should it be with stain at all?
Why must I, 'twixt the leaves of coronal,
Put any kiss of pardon on thy brow?
Why need the other women know so much
And talk together, "Such the look and such
The smile he used to love with, then as now!"

XVIII

Might I die last and shew thee! Should I find
Such hardship in the few years left behind,
If free to take and light my lamp, and go
Into thy tomb, and shut the door and sit
Seeing thy face on those four sides of it
The better that they are so blank, I know!

XIX

Why, time was what I wanted, to turn o'er
Within my mind each look, get more and more
By heart each word, too much to learn at first,
And join thee all the fitter for the pause
'Neath the low door-way's lintel. That were cause
For lingering, though thou called'st, If I durst!

XX

And yet thou art the nobler of us two.
What dare I dream of, that thou canst not do,
Outstripping my ten small steps with one stride?
I'll say then, here's a trial and a task— 
Is it to bear?—if easy, I'll not ask— 
Though love fail, I can trust on in thy pride.

XXI

Pride?—when those eyes forestall the life behind
The death I have to go through!—when I find,
Now that I want thy help most, all of thee!
What did I fear? Thy love shall hold me fast
Until the little minute's sleep is past
And I wake saved.—And yet, it will not be!

 O thou Most High who rulest all 
And hear'st the prayers of thine, 
O hearken, Lord, unto my suit 
And my petition sign.

Into Thy everlasting arms Of mercy 
I commend Thy servant, Lord. 
Keep and preserve My husband, 
my dear friend.

At Thy command, O Lord, he went, 
Nor nought could keep him back. 
Then let Thy promise joy his heart, 
O help and be not slack.

Uphold my heart in Thee, O God. 
Thou art my strength and stay, 
Thou see'st how weak and frail I am, 
Hide not Thy face away.

I in obedience to Thy will 
Thou knowest did submit. 
It was my duty so to do; 
O Lord, accept of it.

Unthankfulness for mercies past 
Impute Thou not to me. 
O Lord, Thou know'st my weak desire 
Was to sing praise to Thee.

Lord, be Thou pilot to the ship 
And send them prosperous gales. 
In storms and sickness, Lord, preserve. 
Thy goodness never fails.

Unto Thy work he hath in hand 
Lord, grant Thou good success 
And favour in their eyes to whom 
He shall make his address.

Remember, Lord, Thy folk whom Thou 
To wilderness hast brought; 
Let not Thine own inheritance 
Be sold away for nought.

But tokens of Thy favour give, 
With joy send back my dear 
That I and all Thy servants may 
Rejoice with heavenly cheer.

Lord, let my eyes see once again 
Him whom Thou gavest me 
That we together may sing praise 
Forever unto Thee.

And the remainder of our days 
Shall consecrated be 
With an engaged heart to sing 
All praises unto Thee.

 OVER the carnage rose prophetic a voice, 
Be not dishearten’d—Affection shall solve the problems of Freedom yet; 
Those who love each other shall become invincible—they shall yet make Columbia
 victorious.


Sons of the Mother of All! you shall yet be victorious! 
You shall yet laugh to scorn the attacks of all the remainder of the earth.

No danger shall balk Columbia’s lovers; 
If need be, a thousand shall sternly immolate themselves for one. 

One from Massachusetts shall be a Missourian’s comrade; 
From Maine and from hot Carolina, and another, an Oregonese, shall be friends triune, 
More precious to each other than all the riches of the earth.

To Michigan, Florida perfumes shall tenderly come; 
Not the perfumes of flowers, but sweeter, and wafted beyond death. 

It shall be customary in the houses and streets to see manly affection; 
The most dauntless and rude shall touch face to face lightly; 
The dependence of Liberty shall be lovers,
The continuance of Equality shall be comrades. 

These shall tie you and band you stronger than hoops of iron; 
I, extatic, O partners! O lands! with the love of lovers tie you. 

(Were you looking to be held together by the lawyers? 
Or by an agreement on a paper? or by arms?
—Nay—nor the world, nor any living thing, will so cohere.)

 I've been going right on, page by page,
since we last kissed, two long dolls in a cage,
two hunger-mongers throwing a myth in and out,
double-crossing out lives with doubt,
leaving us separate now, fogy with rage.

But then I've told my readers what I think
and scrubbed out the remainder with my shrink,
have placed my bones in a jar as if possessed,
have pasted a black wing over my left breast,
have washed the white out of the moon at my sink,

have eaten The Cross, have digested its lore,
indeed, have loved that eggless man once more,
have placed my own head in the kettle because
in the end death won't settle for my hypochondrias,
because this errand we're on goes to one store.

That shopkeeper may put up barricades,
and he may advertise cognac and razor blades,
he may let you dally at Nice or the Tuileries,
he may let the state of our bowels have ascendancy,
he may let such as we flaunt our escapades,

swallow down our portion of whisky and dex,
salvage the day with some soup or some sex,
juggle our teabags as we inch down the hall,
let the blood out of our fires with phenobarbital,
lick the headlines for Starkweathers and Specks,

let us be folk of the literary set,
let us deceive with words the critics regret,
let us dog down the streets for each invitation,
typing out our lives like a Singer sewing sublimation,
letting our delicate bottoms settle and yet

they were spanked alive by some doctor of folly,
given a horn or a dish to get by with, by golly,
exploding with blood in this errand called life,
dumb with snow and elbows, rubber man, a mother wife,
tongues to waggle out of the words, mistletoe and holly,

tables to place our stones on, decades of disguises,
wntil the shopkeeper plants his boot in our eyes,
and unties our bone and is finished with the case,
and turns to the next customer, forgetting our face
or how we knelt at the yellow bulb with sighs
like moth wings for a short while in a small place.

 ONE hour to madness and joy! 
O furious! O confine me not! 
(What is this that frees me so in storms? 
What do my shouts amid lightnings and raging winds mean?) 

O to drink the mystic deliria deeper than any other man!
O savage and tender achings! 
(I bequeath them to you, my children, 
I tell them to you, for reasons, O bridegroom and bride.) 

O to be yielded to you, whoever you are, and you to be yielded to me, in defiance of the
 world! 
O to return to Paradise! O bashful and feminine!
O to draw you to me—to plant on you for the first time the lips of a determin’d
 man! 

O the puzzle—the thrice-tied knot—the deep and dark pool! O all untied and
 illumin’d! 
O to speed where there is space enough and air enough at last! 
O to be absolv’d from previous ties and conventions—I from mine, and you from
 yours! 
O to find a new unthought-of nonchalance with the best of nature!
O to have the gag remov’d from one’s mouth! 
O to have the feeling, to-day or any day, I am sufficient as I am! 

O something unprov’d! something in a trance! 
O madness amorous! O trembling! 
O to escape utterly from others’ anchors and holds!
To drive free! to love free! to dash reckless and dangerous! 
To court destruction with taunts—with invitations! 
To ascend—to leap to the heavens of the love indicated to me! 
To rise thither with my inebriate Soul! 
To be lost, if it must be so!
To feed the remainder of life with one hour of fulness and freedom! 
With one brief hour of madness and joy.

They say that the moon of Ramazan [month of fasting]
is about to appear and that wine must no longer be
thought of. It is well; but let me during the remainder
of Cheeban [the month preceding] drink such
a quantity of it that I may remain drunk up to the day
of the fast.
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