HARD 'tis on a fox's traces
To arrive, midst forest-glades;
Hopeless utterly the chase is,
If his flight the huntsman aids.
And so 'tis with many a wonder,
(Why A B make Ab in fact,)
Over which we gape and blunder,
And our head and brains distract.
Back to Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Get a free collection of Classic Poetry ↓
To be able to leave a comment here you must be registered. Log in or Sign up.