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Johann Wolfgang von Goethe - Book Of Proverbs
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CALL on the present day and night for nought,
Save what by yesterday was brought.
——-
THE sea is flowing ever,
The land retains it never.
——-
BE stirring, man, while yet the day is clear;
The night when none can work fast Draweth near.
——-
WHEN the heavy-laden sigh,
Deeming help and hope gone by,
Oft, with healing power is heard,
Comfort-fraught, a kindly word.
——-
How vast is mine inheritance, how glorious and sublime!
For time mine own possession is, the land I till is time!
——-
UNWARY saith,—ne`er lived a man more true;
The deepest heart, the highest head he knew,—
"In ev`ry place and time thou`lt find availing
Uprightness, judgment, kindliness unfailing."
——-
THOUGH the bards whom the Orient sun bath bless`d
Are greater than we who dwell in the west,
Yet in hatred of those whom our equals we find.
In this we`re not in the least behind.
——-

WOULD we let our envy burst,
Feed its hunger fully first!
To keep our proper place,
  We`ll show our bristles more;
With hawks men all things chase,
  Except the savage boar.
——-
BY those who themselves more bravely have fought
A hero`s praise will be joyfully told.
The worth of man can only be taught
By those who have suffer`d both heat and cold.
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"WHEREFORE is truth so far from our eyes,
Buried as though in a distant land?"
None at the proper moment are wise!

Could they properly understand,
Truth would appear in her own sweet guise,
Beauteous, gentle, and close at hand.
——-
WHY these inquiries make,
Where charity may flow?
Cast in the flood thy cake,—
Its eater, who will know?
——-
ONCE when I a spider had kill`d,
Then methought: wast right or wrong?
That we both to these times should belong,
This had God in His goodness willed.
——-
MOTLEY this congregation is, for, lo!
At the communion kneel both friend and foe.
——-
IF the country I`m to show,
Thou must on the housetop go.
——-
A MAN with households twain
Ne`er finds attention meet,
A house wherein two women reign
Is ne`er kept clean and neat.
——-
BLESS, thou dread Creator,
Bless this humble fane;
Man may build them greater,—
More they`ll not contain.
——-
LET this house`s glory rise,
Handed to far ages down,
And the son his honour prize.
As the father his renown.
——-
O`ER the Mediterranean sea
Proudly hath the Orient sprung;
Who loves Hafis and knows him, he
Knows what Caldron hath sung.
——-
IF the ass that bore the Saviour
Were to Mecca driven, he
Would not alter, but would be
Still an ass in his behavior.
——-
THE flood of passion storms with fruitless strife
`Gainst the unvanquished solid land.—
It throws poetic pearls upon the strand,
And thus is gain`d the prize of life.
——-
WHEN so many minstrels there are,
How it pains me, alas, to know it!
Who from the earth drives poetry far?
Who but the poet!
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