The Joyful Wisdom (

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      Many drops I waste and spill,

      So my scornful mood you curse:

      Who to brim his cup doth fill,

      Many drops must waste and spill—

      Yet he thinks the wine no worse.

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      The Proverb Speaks.

      Harsh and gentle, fine and mean,

      Quite rare and common, dirty and clean,

      The fools' and the sages' go-between:

      All this I will be, this have been,

      Dove and serpent and swine, I ween!

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      To a Lover of Light.

      That eye and sense be not fordone

      E'en in the shade pursue the sun!

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      For Dancers.

      Smoothest ice,

      A paradise

      To him who is a dancer nice.

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      The Brave Man.

      A feud that knows not flaw nor break,

      Rather then patched-up friendship, take.

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      Rust.

      Rust's needed: keenness will not satisfy!

      "He is too young!" the rabble loves to cry.

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      Excelsior.

      "How shall I reach the top?" No time

      For thus reflecting! Start to climb!

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      The Man of Power Speaks.

      Ask never! Cease that whining, pray!

      Take without asking, take alway!

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      Narrow Souls.

      Narrow souls hate I like the devil,

      Souls wherein grows nor good nor evil.

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       Accidentally a Seducer. [3]

      He shot an empty word

      Into the empty blue;

      But on the way it met

      A woman whom it slew.

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      For Consideration.

      A twofold pain is easier far to bear

      Than one: so now to suffer wilt thou dare?

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      Against Pride.

      Brother, to puff thyself up ne'er be quick:

      For burst thou shalt be by a tiny prick!

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      Man and Woman.

      "The woman seize, who to thy heart appeals!"

      Man's motto: woman seizes not, but steals.

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      Interpretation.

      If I explain my wisdom, surely

      'Tis but entangled more securely,

      I can't expound myself aright:

      But he that's boldly up and doing,

      His own unaided course pursuing,

      Upon my image casts more light!

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      A Cure for Pessimism.

      Those old capricious fancies, friend!

      You say your palate naught can please,

      I hear you bluster, spit and wheeze,

      My love, my patience soon will end!

      Pluck up your courage, follow me—

      Here's a fat toad! Now then, don't blink,

      Swallow it whole, nor pause to think!

      From your dyspepsia you'll be free!

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      A Request.

      Many men's minds I know full well,

      Yet what mine own is, cannot tell.

      I cannot see—my eye's too near—

      And falsely to myself appear.

      'Twould be to me a benefit

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