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A poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe |
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The Muses' Son |
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Title: The Muses' Son Author: Johann Wolfgang von Goethe [More Titles by Goethe] [Goethe quotes the beginning of this song in his Autobiography, as expressing the manner in which his poetical effusions used to pour out from him.]
'Tis thus my days are pass'd; And so on, to the last. To wait I scarce have power The tree's first bloom in Spring; Of that sweet dream I sing. My song sounds far and near, Then Winter blossoms bright; Upon the well-till'd height. When 'neath the linden tree, I set them moving soon; Obedient to my tune. Wings to the feet ye lend, The lover far from home; Ye kindly muses, rest,
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