Smoothest ice, A paradise To him who is a dancer nice.
A feud that knows not flaw nor break, Rather then patched-up friendship, take.
Rust's needed: keenness will not satisfy! "He is too young!" the rabble loves to cry.
"How shall I reach the top?" No time For thus reflecting! Start to climb!
_The Man of Power Speaks._ Ask never! Cease that whining, pray! Take without asking, take alway!
Narrow souls hate I like the devil, Souls wherein grows nor good nor evil.
He shot an empty word Into the empty blue; But on the way it met A woman whom it slew.
A twofold pain is easier far to bear Than one: so now to suffer wilt thou dare?
Brother, to puff thyself up ne'er be quick: For burst thou shalt be by a tiny prick!
"The woman seize, who to thy heart appeals!" Man's motto: woman seizes not, but steals.
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!
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!
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.
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.
"No longer path! Abyss and silence chilling!" Thy fault! To leave the path thou wast too willing! Now comes the test! Keep cool--eyes bright and clear! Thou'rt lost for sure, if thou permittest--fear.
See the infant, helpless creeping-- Swine around it grunt swine-talk-- Weeping always, naught but weeping, Will it ever learn to walk? Never fear! Just wait, I swear it Soon to dance will be inclined, And this babe, when two legs bear it, Standing on its head you'll find.