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Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe Short Poems

Famous Short Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe Poems. Short poetry by famous poet Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe. A collection of the all-time best Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe short poems


by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
 HAND in hand! and lip to lip!



by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
 SILENCE deep rules o'er the waters,

Calmly slumb'ring lies the main,
While the sailor views with trouble

Nought but one vast level plain.
Not a zephyr is in motion! Silence fearful as the grave! In the mighty waste of ocean Sunk to rest is ev'ry wave.
1795.

by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
 Go! obedient to my call,

Turn to profit thy young days,

Wiser make betimes thy breast

In Fate's balance as it sways,

Seldom is the cock at rest;
Thou must either mount, or fall,

Thou must either rule and win,

Or submissively give in,
Triumph, or else yield to clamour:
Be the anvil or the hammer.
1789.

by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
 My neighbour's curtain, well I see,

Is moving to and fin.
No doubt she's list'ning eagerly, If I'm at home or no.
And if the jealous grudge I bore And openly confess'd, Is nourish'd by me as before, Within my inmost breast.
Alas! no fancies such as these E'er cross'd the dear child's thoughts.
I see 'tis but the ev'ning breeze That with the curtain sports.
1803.

by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
 FAR explore the mountain hollow,
High in air the clouds then follow!

To each brook and vale the Muse

Thousand times her call renews.
Soon as a flow'ret blooms in spring, It wakens many a strain; And when Time spreads his fleeting wing, The seasons come again.
1820.
*

by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
 [Prefixed to the second edition.
] EV'RY youth for love's sweet portion sighs, Ev'ry maiden sighs to win man's love; Why, alas! should bitter pain arise From the noblest passion that we prove? Thou, kind soul, bewailest, lov'st him well, From disgrace his memory's saved by thee; Lo, his spirit signs from out its cell: BE A MAN, NOR SEEK TO FOLLOW ME.
1775.

by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
 I PICKED a rustic nosegay lately,
And bore it homewards, musing greatly;
When, heated by my hand, I found
The heads all drooping tow'rd the ground.
I plac'd them in a well-cool'd glass, And what a wonder came to pass The heads soon raised themselves once more.
The stalks were blooming as before, And all were in as good a case As when they left their native place.
* * * * So felt I, when I wond'ring heard My song to foreign tongues transferr'd.
1828.



by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
 WHEN by the broad stream thou dost dwell,

Oft shallow is its sluggish flood;
Then, when thy fields thou tendest well,

It o'er them spreads its slime and mud.
The ships descend ere daylight wanes, The prudent fisher upward goes; Round reef and rock ice casts its chains, And boys at will the pathway close.
To this attend, then, carefully, And what thou wouldst, that execute! Ne'er linger, ne'er o'erhasty be, For time moves on with measured foot.
1821.
*

by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
 FLOW on, ye lays so loved, so fair,

On to Oblivion's ocean flow!
May no rapt boy recall you e'er,

No maiden in her beauty's glow!

My love alone was then your theme,

But now she scorns my passion true.
Ye were but written in the stream; As it flows on, then, flow ye too! 1798.
*

by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
 MODEST men must needs endure,

And the bold must humbly bow;
Thus thy fate's the same, be sure,

Whether bold or modest thou.
1815.
*

by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
 HERE where the roses blossom, where vines round the laurels are 
twining,

Where the turtle-dove calls, where the blithe cricket is heard,
Say, whose grave can this be, with life by all the Immortals

Beauteously planted and deck'd?--Here doth Anacreon sleep
Spring and summer and autumn rejoiced the thrice-happy minstrel,

And from the winter this mound kindly hath screen'd him at last.
1789.
*

by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
 CARELESSLY over the plain away,
Where by the boldest man no path
Cut before thee thou canst discern,
Make for thyself a path!

Silence, loved one, my heart!
Cracking, let it not break!
Breaking, break not with thee!

 1776.
*

by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
 YESTERDAY brown was still thy head, as the locks 
of my loved one,

Whose sweet image so dear silently beckons afar.
Silver-grey is the early snow to-day on thy summit, Through the tempestuous night streaming fast over thy brow.
Youth, alas, throughout life as closely to age is united As, in some changeable dream, yesterday blends with to-day.
Uri, October 7th, 1797.

BURIAL  Create an image from this poem
by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
 To the grave one day from a house they bore

A maiden;
To the window the citizens went to explore;
In splendour they lived, and with wealth as of yore

Their banquets were laden.
Then thought they: "The maid to the tomb is now borne; We too from our dwellings ere long must be torn, And he that is left our departure to mourn, To our riches will be the successor, For some one must be their possessor.
1827.
*

by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
 WHEN the vine again is blowing,

Then the wine moves in the cask;
When the rose again is glowing,

Wherefore should I feel oppress'd?

Down my cheeks run tears all-burning,

If I do, or leave my task;
I but feel a speechless yearning,

That pervades my inmost breast.
But at length I see the reason, When the question I would ask: 'Twas in such a beauteous season, Doris glowed to make me blest! 1797.

by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
 WHEREFORE ever ramble on?

For the Good is lying near,
Fortune learn to seize alone,

For that Fortune's ever here.
1789.

by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
 WEEP, maiden, weep here o'er the tomb of Love;

He died of nothing--by mere chance was slain.
But is he really dead?--oh, that I cannot prove: A nothing, a mere chance, oft gives him life again.
1767-9.

by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
 As at sunset I was straying

Silently the wood along,
Damon on his flute was playing,

And the rocks gave back the song,
So la, Ia! &c.
Softly tow'rds him then he drew me; Sweet each kiss he gave me then! And I said, "Play once more to me!" And he kindly play'd again, So la, la! &c.
All my peace for aye has fleeted, All my happiness has flown; Yet my ears are ever greeted With that olden, blissful tone, So la, la! &c.
1791.

by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
 A PLAN the Muses entertain'd

Methodically to impart

To Psyche the poetic art;
Prosaic-pure her soul remain'd.
No wondrous sounds escaped her lyre E'en in the fairest Summer night; But Amor came with glance of fire,-- The lesson soon was learn'd aright.
1827.
*

by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
 As a boy, reserved and naughty;
As a youth, a coxcomb and haughty;
As a man, for action inclined;
As a greybeard, fickle in mind.
-- Upon thy grave will people read: This was a very man, indeed! 1815.
*

by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
 AH! who'll e'er those days restore,

Those bright days of early love
Who'll one hour again concede,

Of that time so fondly cherish'd!
Silently my wounds I feed,
And with wailing evermore

Sorrow o'er each joy now perish'd.
Ah! who'll e'er the days restore Of that time so fondly cherish'd.
1789.
*

by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
 THE happiness that man, whilst prison'd here,

Is wont with heavenly rapture to compare,--
The harmony of Truth, from wavering clear,--

Of Friendship that is free from doubting care,--
The light which in stray thoughts alone can cheer

The wise,--the bard alone in visions fair,--
In my best hours I found in her all this,
And made mine own, to mine exceeding bliss.
1820.
*

by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
 No one talks more than a Poet;
Fain he'd have the people know it.
Praise or blame he ever loves; None in prose confess an error, Yet we do so, void of terror, In the Muses' silent groves.
What I err'd in, what corrected, What I suffer'd, what effected, To this wreath as flow'rs belong; For the aged, and the youthful, And the vicious, and the truthful, All are fair when viewed in song.
1800.
* -----

by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
 THIS nosegay,--'twas I dress'd it,--

Greets thee a thousand times!
Oft stoop'd I, and caress'd it,

Ah! full a thousand times,
And 'gainst my bosom press'd it

A hundred thousand times!

1815.
*

by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
 THROUGH rain, through snow,
Through tempest go!
'Mongst streaming caves,
O'er misty waves,
On, on! still on!
Peace, rest have flown!

Sooner through sadness

I'd wish to be slain,
Than all the gladness

Of life to sustain
All the fond yearning

That heart feels for heart,
Only seems burning

To make them both smart.
How shall I fly? Forestwards hie? Vain were all strife! Bright crown of life.
Turbulent bliss,-- Love, thou art this! 1789.


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