Page:The Works of J. W. von Goethe, Volume 9.djvu/361

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POEMS OF GOETHE
327

LOVE'S HOUR-GLASS.

Eros! wherefore do I see thee, with the glass in either hand?
Fickle god! with double measure wouldst thou count the shifting sand?
"This one flows for parted lovers—slowly drops each tiny bead—
That is for the days of dalliance, and it melts with golden speed."


WARNING.

Do not touch him—do not wake him! Fast asleep is Amor lying;
Go—fulfil thy work appointed—do thy labour of the day.
Thus the wise and careful mother uses every moment flying,
Whilst her child is in the cradle—Slumbers pass too soon away.


PHILOMELA.

Surely, surely, Amor nursed thee, songstress of the plaintive note,
And, in fond and childish fancy, fed thee from his pointed dart.
So, sweet Philomel, the poison sunk into thy guileless throat,
Till, with all love's weight of passion, strike its notes to every heart.