The Poems of Goethe - LightNovelsOnl.com
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Conceal thy delight!
THE HUNTER.
To-day I'm rewarded; Rich booty's afforded
By Fortune so bright.
My servant the pheasants, And hares fit for presents
Takes homeward at night; Here see I enraptured In nets the birds captured!--
Long life to the hunter!
Long live his delight!
1789.
----- WHO'LL BUY G.o.dS OF LOVE?
OF all the beauteous wares Exposed for sale at fairs, None will give more delight Than those that to your sight From distant lands we bring.
Oh, hark to what we sing!
These beauteous birds behold, They're brought here to be sold.
And first the big one see, So full of roguish glee!
With light and merry bound He leaps upon the ground; Then springs up on the bougd, We will not praise him now.
The merry bird behold,-- He's brought here to be sold.
And now the small one see!
A modest look has he, And yet he's such apother As his big roguish brother.
'Tis chiefly when all's still He loves to show his will.
The bird so small and bold,-- He's brought here to be sold.
Observe this little love, This darling turtle dove!
All maidens are so neat, So civil, so discreet Let them their charms set loose, And turn your love to use; The gentle bird behold,-- She's brought here to be sold.
Their praises we won't tell; They'll stand inspection well.
They're fond of what is new,-- And yet, to show they're true, Nor seal nor letter's wanted; To all have wings been granted.
The pretty birds behold,-- Such beauties ne'er were sold!
1795.
----- THE MISANTHROPE.
AT first awhile sits he,
With calm, unruffled brow; His features then I see, Distorted hideously,--
An owl's they might be now.
What is it, askest thou?
Is't love, or is't ennui?
'Tis both at once, I vow.
1767-9.
----- DIFFERENT THREATS.
I ONCE into a forest far
My maiden went to seek, And fell upon her neck, when: "Ah!"
She threaten'd, "I will shriek!"
Then cried I haughtily: "I'll crush
The man that dares come near thee!"
"Hus.h.!.+" whisper'd she: "My loved one, hus.h.!.+
Or else they'll overhear thee!"
1767-9.
----- MAIDEN WISHES.
WHAT pleasure to me A bridegroom would be!
When married we are, They call us mamma.
No need then to sew, To school we ne'er go; Command uncontroll'd, Have maids, whom to scold; Choose clothes at our ease, Of what tradesmen we please; Walk freely about, And go to each rout, And unrestrained are By papa or mamma.
1767-9.
----- MOTIVES.
IF to a girl who loves us truly Her mother gives instruction duly In virtue, duty, and what not,-- And if she hearkens ne'er a jot, But with fresh-strengthen'd longing flies
To meet our kiss that seems to burn,--
Caprice has just as much concerned As love in her bold enterprise.
But if her mother can succeed In gaining for her maxims heed, And softening the girl's heart too, So that she coyly shuns our view,-- The heart of youth she knows but ill;
For when a maiden is thus stern,
Virtue in truth has less concern In this, than an inconstant will.
1767-9.
----- TRUE ENJOYMENT.
VAINLY wouldst thou, to gain a heart,
Heap up a maiden's lap with gold; The joys of love thou must impart,
Wouldst thou e'er see those joys unfold.
The voices of the throng gold buys,
