The Joyful Wisdom 3
My Roses._
My luck's good—I'd make yours fairer,
(Good luck ever needs a sharer),
Will you stop and pluck my roses?
Oft mid rocks and thorns you'll linger,
Hide and stoop, suck bleeding finger—
Will you stop and pluck my roses?
For my good luck's a trifle vicious,
Fond of teasing, tricks malicious—
Will you stop and pluck my roses?
10.
_The Scorner._
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.
11.
_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!
12.
_To a Lover of Light._
That eye and sense be not fordone
E'en in the shade pursue the sun!
13.
_For Dancers._
Smoothest ice,
A paradise
To him who is a dancer nice.
14.
_The Brave Man._
A feud that knows not flaw nor break,
Rather then patched-up friendship, take.
15.
_Rust._
Rust's needed: keenness will not satisfy!
"He is too young!" the rabble loves to cry.
16.
_Excelsior._
"How shall I reach the top?" No time
For thus reflecting! Start to climb!
17.
_The Man of Power Speaks._
Ask never! Cease that whining, pray!
Take without asking, take alway!
18.
_Narrow Souls._
Narrow souls hate I like the devil,
Souls wherein grows nor good nor evil.
19.
_Accidentally a Seducer._[3]
He shot an empty word
Into the empty blue;
But on the way it met
A woman whom it slew.
20.
_For Consideration._
A twofold pain is easier far to bear
Than one: so now to suffer wilt thou dare?
21.
_Against Pride._
Brother, to puff thyself up ne'er be quick:
For burst thou shalt be by a tiny prick!
22.
_Man and Woman._
"The woman seize, who to thy heart appeals!"
Man's motto: woman seizes not, but steals.
23.
_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!
24.
_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!
25.
_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
Far from myself if I could sit,
Less distant than my enemy,
And yet my nearest friend's too nigh—
'Twixt him and me, just in the middle!
What do I ask for? Guess my riddle!
26.
_My Cruelty._
I must ascend an hundred stairs,
I must ascend: the herd declares
I'm cruel: "Are we made of stone?"
I must ascend an hundred stairs:
All men the part of stair disown.
27.
_The Wanderer._
"No longer path! Abyss and silence chilling!"
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