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To My Friend - Ode III

BE void of feeling!

A heart that soon is stirr'd,

Is a possession

Upon this changing earth.

Behrisch, let spring's sweet

Never gladden thy brow!

Then winter's gloomy

Never will shadow it o'er.

Lean thyself ne'er on a

Sorrow-engendering breast.

Ne'er on the arm,

Misery-fraught, of a friend.

Already

From out his rocky

Upon thee

The force of his lynx-like eyes,

Stretches his talons,

On thee falls,

In thy

Cunningly plants them.

Strong are his skinny arms,

As panther-claws;

He shaketh thee,

And rends thy frame.

Death 'tis to part,'Tis threefold

To part, not

Ever to meet again.

Thou wouldst rejoice to

This hated land behind,

Wert thou not chain'd to

With friendships flowery chains.

Burst them!

I'll not repine.

No noble

Would stay his fellow-captive,

If means of flight appear.

The

Of his dear friend's

Gives him

In his dungeon.

Thou go'st,—I'm left.

But e'en

The last year's winged

Whirl round the smoking axle.

I number the

Of the thundering wheel;

The last one I bless.—Each bar then is broken,

I'm free then as thou!

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Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (28 August 1749 – 22 March 1832) was a German writer and statesman. His works include: four novels; epic and lyric po…

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