Friday, April 09, 2004

Good Friday by Goethe


ON Petrarch's heart, all other days before,

In flaming letters written, was impress'd

GOOD FRIDAY. And on mine, be it confess'd,

Is this year's ADVENT, as it passeth o'er.

I do not now begin,--I still adore

Her whom I early cherish'd in my breast;,

Then once again with prudence dispossess'd,

And to whose heart I'm driven back once more.

The love of Petrarch, that all-glorious love,

Was unrequited, and, alas, full sad;

One long Good Friday 'twas, one heartache drear

But may my mistress' Advent ever prove,

With its palm-jubilee, so sweet and glad,

One endless Mayday, through the livelong year!

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