Johann Wolfgang von Goethe ( 6 of 6 )
Chill penury repressed their noble rage,
And froze the genial current of the soul.
Chill penury repressed their noble rage,
And froze the genial current of the soul.
We frolic while 'tis May.
We frolic while 'tis May.
What is not in a man cannot come out of him surely.
What is not in a man cannot come out of him surely.
Some mute, inglorious Milton here may rest.
Some mute, inglorious Milton here may rest.
Wept o'er his wounds, or tales of sorrow done,
Shoulder'd his crutch, and show'd how fields were won.
Wept o'er his wounds, or tales of sorrow done,
Shoulder'd his crutch, and show'd how fields were won.
What sorrow was, thou bad'st her know,
And from her own she learnt to melt at others' woe.
What sorrow was, thou bad'st her know,
And from her own she learnt to melt at others' woe.
