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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OR a praiseworthy object we're now gather'd here,    So, brethren, sing:
GO
US
Tho' talk may be hush'd, yet the glasses ring clear,    Remember then:
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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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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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A
ID
ET smiles the May
The forest
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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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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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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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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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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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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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AT pulls at my heart so
What tells me to roam
What drags me and lures
From chamber and home
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"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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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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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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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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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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