Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

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Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (28 August 1749 – 22 March 1832) was a German writer and statesman. His works include: four novels; epic and lyric poetry; prose and verse dramas; memoirs; an autobiography; literary and aesthetic criticism; and treatises on botany, anatomy, and colour.
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To The Husbandman

LY and lightly the golden seed by the furrow is cover'd;
Yet will a deeper one, friend, cover thy bones at the last
Joyously plough'd and sow'd
Here food all living is budding,
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The King Of Thule

IN Thule lived a monarch,
Still faithful to the grave,
To whom his dying mistressA golden goblet gave
Beyond all price he deem'd it,
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Trilogy Of Passion 03 Atonement

ON brings reason—who can
An anguish'd heart whose loss hath been so great
Where are the hours that fled so swiftly by
In vain the fairest thou didst gain from fate;
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Constancy In Change

LD this early bliss but
Constant for one single hour
But e'en now the humid
Scatters many a vernal shower
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By The River II

EN 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
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The Same

SH'D on the hill  Is the breeze;
Scarce by the zephyr  The
Softly are press'd;
The woodbird's asleep on the bough
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Wedding Song

HE tale of the Count our glad song shall
Who had in this castle his dwelling,
Where now ye are feasting the new-married lord,
His grandson of whom we are telling
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AT pulls at my heart so
What tells me to roam
What drags me and lures
From chamber and home
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Ergo Bibamus!

OR a praiseworthy object we're now gather'd here,    So, brethren, sing:
Tho' talk may be hush'd, yet the glasses ring clear,    Remember then:
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Book Of Contemplation - For Woman

OR woman due allowance make
Form'd of a crooked rib was she,—By Heaven she could not straightened be
Attempt to bend her, and she'll break;
If left alone, more crooked grows madam;
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Book Of Love - One More Pair

VE is indeed a glorious prize
What fairer guerdon meets our eyes
—Though neither wealth nor power are thine,
A very hero thou dost shine
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The Dance Of Death

HE warder looks down at the mid hour of night,
On the tombs that lie scatter'd below:
The moon fills the place with her silvery light,
And the churchyard like day seems to glow
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The Violet

ON the mead a violet stood,
Retiring, and of modest mood,
In truth, a violet fair
Then came a youthful shepherdess,
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Three Palinodias - 01

"Incense is hut a tribute for the gods,—To mortals 'tis but
HE smoke that from thine altar blows,
Can it the gods offend
For I observe thou hold'st thy nose—Pray what does this portend
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The Fisherman

HE waters rush'd, the waters rose,
A fisherman sat by,
While on his line in calm
He cast his patient eye
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The First Walpurgis-Night

ET smiles the May
The forest
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