The Poetry Corner

The Garlands.

By Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Klopstock would lead us away from Pindus; no longer for laurel May we be eager the homely acorn alone must content us; Yet he himself his more-than-epic crusade is conducting High on Golgotha's summit, that foreign gods he may honour! Yet, on what hill he prefers, let him gather the angels together, Suffer deserted disciples to weep o'er the grave of the just one: There where a hero and saint hath died, where a bard breath'd his numbers, Both for our life and our death an ensample of courage resplendent And of the loftiest human worth to bequeath, ev'ry nation There will joyously kneel in devotion ecstatic, revering Thorn and laurel garland, and all its charms and its tortures.