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Poems of Goethe

IN A WORD.

THUS to be chain'd for ever, can I bear?

A very torment that, in truth, would be.

This very day my new resolve shall see.--
I'll not go near the lately-worshipp'd Fair.

Yet what excuse, my heart, can I prepare

In such a case, for not consulting thee?

But courage! while our sorrows utter we
In tones where love, grief, gladness have a share.

But see! the minstrel's bidding to obey,

Its melody pours forth the sounding lyre,

  Yearning a sacrifice of love to bring.

Scarce wouldst thou think it--ready is the lay;

Well, but what then? Methought in the first fire

  We to her presence flew, that lay to sing.

                                18078.