Joy from that in type we borrow,
Which in life gives only sorrow.
A DRAGON-FLY with beauteous wing
Is hov'ring o'er a silv'ry spring;
I watch its motions with delight, --
Now dark its colours seem, now bright;
Chameleon-like appear, now blue,
Now red, and now of greenish hue.
Would it would come still nearer me,
That I its tints might better see!
It hovers, flutters, resting ne'er!
But hush! it settles on the mead.
I have it safe now, I declare!
And when its form I closely view,
'Tis of a sad and dingy blue --
Such, Joy-Dissector, is thy case indeed!
A YOUNG fig-tree its form lifts high
Within a beauteous garden;
And see, a goat is sitting by,
As if he were its warden.
But oh, Quirites, how one errs!
The tree is guarded badly;
For round the other side there whirrs
And hums a beetle madly.
The hero with his well-mail'd coat
Nibbles the branches tall so;
A mighty longing feels the goat
Gently to climb up also.
Questia, a part of Gale, Cengage Learning. www.questia.com
Publication information: Book title: The Poems of Goethe. Contributors: Edgar Alfred Bowring - Translator, Johann Wolfgang von Goethe - Author. Publisher: John B. Alden. Place of publication: New York. Publication year: 1883. Page number: 228.
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