A Parable

A Parable

I PICKED a rustic nosegay lately,
And bore it homewards, musing greatly;
When, heated by my hand, I found
The heads all drooping tow'rd the ground.
I plac'd them in a well-cool'd glass,
And what a wonder came to pass
The heads soon raised themselves once more.
The stalks were blooming as before,
And all were in as good a case
As when they left their native place.

* * * *

So felt I, when I wond'ring heard
My song to foreign tongues transferr'd.

1828.

-THE END-
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe's poem: A Parable

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