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Archive S-T

· Sibylla SCHWARZ: Wie kan der Liebe Joch doch süß und lieblich seyn · Thomas TRAHERNE: Innocence · Sibylla SCHWARZ: Sonnet · Sibylla SCHWARZ: Auß dem Lied vohn der beständigen Liebe · Gertrude STEIN: Daughter · Sara TEASDALE: “Only in Sleep” · Gertrude STEIN: Cézanne · William SHAKESPEARE: Lowliness · Gertrude STEIN: A Mounted Umbrella · Alfred Lord TENNYSON: Beauty · Thomas TRAHERNE: Walking · WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE: To be, or not to be

»» there is more...

Sibylla SCHWARZ: Wie kan der Liebe Joch doch süß und lieblich seyn

Sibylla Schwarz
Wie kan der Liebe Joch doch süß und lieblich seyn

Wie kan der Liebe Joch doch süß und lieblich seyn,
weil manches Herze pflegt vohn ihren Schmertzen sagen,
und über ihre Last, und tieffe Wunden klagen?
wie ist dan süße das, das allen bringet Pein,
das wie ein starckes Gifft die Hertzen nimmet ein,
das manchen Helden würgt, ihr vihl auch heist verzagen?
wie kan uns das alsdan doch Frewd und Lust erjagen?
Nein, nein, der Liebe Tranck ist bitter Wermuhtwein.
Doch gleichwohl ist sie süß, weil vielen wird gegeben,
durch ihre Süßigkeit, ein angenehmes Leben.
Drüm / schließ ich, ist die Lieb ein angenehmes Leid;
(wiewohl eß selten kompt, daß wiedrig’ Eigenschafften
an einem Dinge nuhr zu gleiche können hafften)
die Liebe heisst und ist die süße Bitterkeit.

Sibylla Schwarz (1621 – 1638)
Gedicht: Wie kan der Liebe Joch doch süß und lieblich seyn magazine

More in: Archive S-T, SIbylla Schwarz

Thomas TRAHERNE: Innocence


Thomas Traherne
(1637 – 1674)


But that which most I wonder at, which most
I did esteem my bliss, which most I boast,
And ever shall enjoy, is that within
I felt no stain, nor spot of sin.

No darkness then did overshade,
But all within was pure and bright,
No guilt did crush, nor fear invade
But all my soul was full of light.

A joyful sense and purity
Is all I can remember;
The very night to me was bright,
‘Twas summer in December.

A serious meditation did employ
My soul within, which taken up with joy
Did seem no outward thing to note, but fly
All objects that do feed the eye.

While it those very objects did
Admire, and prize, and praise, and love,
Which in their glory most are hid,
Which presence only doth remove.

Their constant daily presence I
Rejoicing at, did see;
And that which takes them from the eye
Of others, offer’d them to me.

No inward inclination did I feel
To avarice or pride: my soul did kneel
In admiration all the day. No lust, nor strife,
Polluted then my infant life.

No fraud nor anger in me mov’d,
No malice, jealousy, or spite;
All that I saw I truly lov’d.
Contentment only and delight

Were in my soul. O Heav’n! what bliss
Did I enjoy and feel!
What powerful delight did this
Inspire! for this I daily kneel.

Whether it be that nature is so pure,
And custom only vicious; or that sure
God did by miracle the guilt remove,
And make my soul to feel his love

So early: or that ’twas one day,
Wherein this happiness I found;
Whose strength and brightness so do ray,
That still it seems me to surround;

What ere it is, it is a light
So endless unto me
That I a world of true delight
Did then and to this day do see.

That prospect was the gate of Heav’n, that day
The ancient light of Eden did convey
Into my soul: I was an Adam there
A little Adam in a sphere

Of joys! O there my ravish’d sense
Was entertain’d in Paradise,
And had a sight of innocence
Which was beyond all bound and price.

An antepast of Heaven sure!
I on the earth did reign;
Within, without me, all was pure;
I must become a child again.

Thomas Traherne magazine

More in: Archive S-T, Archive S-T, CLASSIC POETRY

Sibylla SCHWARZ: Sonnet


Sibylla Schwarz
(Daphne aus der Schäfererzählung: Faunus)

Hier hab ich nun mein sehnliches Verlangen:
hier liegt mein Lieb, hier ligt mein ander ich:
hier giebt das Glück sich selbst gefangen mich:
hier mag ich nun mein Lieb vielmahl umfangen:
hier mag ich nun auch küssen seine Wangen:
Cupido hört mein Klagen inniglich,
und wil nun auch so hülffreich zeigen sich;
Nun mag ich wohl mit meinem Glücke prangen;
die Venus zeigt mir iezt ein guhtes Ziel,
ich wil nur selbst, nicht was ich gerne wil;
O Blödigkeit, du must nur von mir weichen!
weil du hir bist, wärt meine grosse Pein;
Wer lieben wil, mus nicht so blöde seyn,
sonst kan er nicht der Liebe Lohn erreichen.

Sibylla Schwarz (1621 – 1638)
Gedicht: Sonnet
(Daphne aus der Schäfererzählung: Faunus)
(Blödigkeit bedeutet Schüchternheit) magazine

More in: Archive S-T, SIbylla Schwarz

Sibylla SCHWARZ: Auß dem Lied vohn der beständigen Liebe

Sibylla Schwarz
Auß dem Lied vohn der beständigen Liebe

Wol dem, der also ist verliebet,
daß seine Liebe nimmer weicht!
Wer sich der Wanckelmuht ergiebet,
der ist eß, der dem Mond sich gleicht.
Der Neidt, der sonst die Liebe bricht,
der bricht doch meine Liebe nicht.

Soll mich dan nuhn der Neidt betrügen,
mich der kein Tod abschrecken kan?
soll mich die Welt mit ihrem Liegen
izt führen eine frembde Bahn?
Der Neidt, der sonst die Liebe bricht,
der bricht doch meine Liebe nicht.

Das ist eß, das wir armen klagen:
Wan einer sich ein Ziel erkießt,
so bald wil ihn der Neidt verjagen,
der aller Liebe Schewsahl ist:
Der Neid der sonst die Liebe bricht,
der bricht doch meine Liebe nicht.

Will nuhn der Neid das Brodt mir nehmen,
und denckt mich damit abzuziehn,
was will ich mich doch darümb grähmen,
die Lieb ernehrt mich immer hin;
Der Neidt der sonst die Liebe bricht,
der bricht doch meine Liebe nicht.

Will mich der Neidt in grünen Zeiten,
da meine Jugend Blumen trägt,
schon in Verzweiflungs Banden leiten,
eh ich mit Reiff und Schnee bedeckt?
Der Neidt, der sonst die Liebe bricht,
der bricht doch meine Liebe nicht.

Bin ich der ärmste zwahr im Lande,
bin ich zwahr der, dem Geld gebricht,
so nehm ich Armuht für die Schande,
die Armuht tuht der Liebe nicht:
der Neid, der sonst die Liebe bricht,
der bricht doch meine Liebe nicht.

Wan mir nuhr gibt mein Liecht, mein Leben
die Hand voll Lieb und trewer Gunst,
wil ich doch nicht dis kleine geben
ümb aller Welt Gelt, Guht und Kunst:
der Neidt, der sonst die Liebe bricht,
der bricht doch meine Liebe nicht.

Hiemit wil ich die Seuffzer enden;
Gelück, ich geb dir guhte Nacht
du magst dich links und rechts ümbwenden,
Ich bin der, der des Glückes lacht,
und vohn der Liebe lass ich nicht,
biß daß der Tod sie selber bricht.

Sibylla Schwarz (1621 – 1638)
Gedicht: Auß dem Lied vohn der beständigen Liebe magazine

More in: Archive S-T, SIbylla Schwarz

Gertrude STEIN: Daughter

Gertrude Stein




Why is the world at peace.

This may astonish you a little but when you realise how

easily Mrs. Charles Bianco sells the work of American

painters to American millionaires you will recognize that

authorities are constrained to be relieved. Let me tell you a

story. A painter loved a woman. A musician did not sing.

A South African loved books. An American was a woman

and needed help. Are Americans the same as incubators.

But this is the rest of the story. He became an authority.


Gertrude Stein poetry magazine

More in: Archive S-T, Stein, Gertrude

Sara TEASDALE: “Only in Sleep”


Sara Teasdale
(1884 – 1933)

“Only in Sleep”

Only in sleep I see their faces,
Children I played with when I was a child,
Louise comes back with her brown hair braided,
Annie with ringlets warm and wild.

Only in sleep Time is forgotten—
What may have come to them, who can know?
Yet we played last night as long ago,
And the doll-house stood at the turn of the stair.

The years had not sharpened their smooth round faces,
I met their eyes and found them mild—
Do they, too, dream of me, I wonder,
And for them am I too a child?

Sara Teasdale magazine

More in: Archive S-T, Teasdale, Sara

Gertrude STEIN: Cézanne

Gertrude Stein



The Irish lady can say, that to-day is every day. Caesar can say that

every day is to-day and they say that every day is as they say.

In this way we have a place to stay and he was not met because

he was settled to stay. When I said settled I meant settled to stay.

When I said settled to stay I meant settled to stay Saturday. In this

way a mouth is a mouth. In this way if in as a mouth if in as a

mouth where, if in as a mouth where and there. Believe they have

water too. Believe they have that water too and blue when you see

blue, is all blue precious too, is all that that is precious too is all

that and they meant to absolve you. In this way Cézanne nearly did

nearly in this way. Cézanne nearly did nearly did and nearly did.

And was I surprised. Was I very surprised. Was I surprised. I was

surprised and in that patient, are you patient when you find bees.

Bees in a garden make a specialty of honey and so does honey. Honey

and prayer. Honey and there. There where the grass can grow nearly

four times yearly.


Gertrude Stein (1874-1946) poetry magazine

More in: Archive S-T, Stein, Gertrude

William SHAKESPEARE: Lowliness


William Shakespeare


Lowliness is young ambition’s ladder,
Whereto the climber-upward turns his face;
But when he once attains the upmost round,
He then unto the ladder turns his back,
Looks in the clouds, scorning the base degrees
By which he did ascend

William Shakespeare, Julius Caesar, Act II, sc.1
Shakespeare 400 (1616 – 2016) magazine

More in: Archive S-T, Shakespeare, William

Gertrude STEIN: A Mounted Umbrella

Gertrude Stein


A Mounted Umbrella

What was the use of not leaving it there where it would hang what was the use if there was no chance of ever seeing it come there and show that it was handsome and right in the way it showed it. The lesson is to learn that it does show it, that it shows it and that nothing, that there is nothing, that there is no more to do about it and just so much more is there plenty of reason for making an exchange.

Gertrude Stein: A mounted umbrella magazine

More in: Archive S-T, Stein, Gertrude

Alfred Lord TENNYSON: Beauty


Alfred Lord Tennyson
(1809 – 1892)


Oh, Beauty, passing beauty! sweetest Sweet!
How canst thou let me waste my youth in sighs;
I only ask to sit beside thy feet.
Thou knowest I dare not look into thine eyes,
Might I but kiss thy hand! I dare not fold
My arms about thee—scarcely dare to speak.
And nothing seems to me so wild and bold,
As with one kiss to touch thy blessèd cheek.
Methinks if I should kiss thee, no control
Within the thrilling brain could keep afloat
The subtle spirit. Even while I spoke,
The bare word KISS hath made my inner soul
To tremble like a lutestring, ere the note
Hath melted in the silence that it broke.

Alfred Lord Tennyson magazine

More in: Archive S-T, Tennyson, Alfred Lord

Thomas TRAHERNE: Walking


Thomas Traherne
(1637 – 1674)


To walk abroad is, not with eyes,
But thoughts, the fields to see and prize;
Else may the silent feet,
Like logs of wood,
Move up and down, and see no good
Nor joy nor glory meet.

Ev’n carts and wheels their place do change,
But cannot see, though very strange
The glory that is by;
Dead puppets may
Move in the bright and glorious day,
Yet not behold the sky.

And are not men than they more blind,
Who having eyes yet never find
The bliss in which they move;
Like statues dead
They up and down are carried
Yet never see nor love.

To walk is by a thought to go;
To move in spirit to and fro;
To mind the good we see;
To taste the sweet;
Observing all the things we meet
How choice and rich they be.

To note the beauty of the day,
And golden fields of corn survey;
Admire each pretty flow’r
With its sweet smell;
To praise their Maker, and to tell
The marks of his great pow’r.

To fly abroad like active bees,
Among the hedges and the trees,
To cull the dew that lies
On ev’ry blade,
From ev’ry blossom; till we lade
Our minds, as they their thighs.

Observe those rich and glorious things,
The rivers, meadows, woods, and springs,
The fructifying sun;
To note from far
The rising of each twinkling star
For us his race to run.

A little child these well perceives,
Who, tumbling in green grass and leaves,
May rich as kings be thought,
But there’s a sight
Which perfect manhood may delight,
To which we shall be brought.

While in those pleasant paths we talk,
‘Tis that tow’rds which at last we walk;
For we may by degrees
Wisely proceed
Pleasures of love and praise to heed,
From viewing herbs and trees.

Thomas Traherne magazine

More in: Archive S-T, CLASSIC POETRY

WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE: To be, or not to be


William Shakespeare

To be, or not to be

To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep:
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heartache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to,–‘t is a consummation
Devoutly to be wish’d. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there’s the rub:
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause: there’s the respect
That makes calamity of so long life;
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor’s wrong, the proud man’s contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the law’s delay,
The insolence of office and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscover’d country from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o’er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pith and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action.

William Shakespeare, “Hamlet”, Act 3 scene 1
Shakespeare 400 (1616 – 2016) magazine

More in: Archive S-T, Shakespeare, William

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