To the great archer--not to him

To meet whom flies the sun,
And who is wont his features dim

With clouds to overrun--

But to the boy be vow'd these rhymes,

Who 'mongst the roses plays,
Who hear us, and at proper times

To pierce fair hearts essays.

Through him the gloomy winter night,

Of yore so cold and drear,
Brings many a loved friend to our sight,

And many a woman dear.

Henceforward shall his image fair

Stand in yon starry skies,
And, ever mild and gracious there,

Alternate set and rise.

1815.*

Added: Jan 10 2005 | Viewed: 654 times | Comments (0)

Poet: Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Poem: 36. NOVEMBER SONG.
Volume: The Poems - 01. Songs
Year: Published/Written in 1853
Poem of the Day on:
Sep 18 2007
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