Margaret’s Song

Image
  There was a king in Thule,  True even to the grave;  To whom his dying mistress  A golden beaker gave.  At every feast he drained it,  Naught was to him so dear,  And often as he drained it,  Gush’d from his eyes the tear.  When death came, unrepining  His cities o’er he told;  All to his heir resigning,  Except his cup of gold.  With many a knightly vassal  At a royal feast sat he,  In yon proud hall ancestral,  In his castle o’er the sea.  Up stood the jovial monarch,  And quaff’d his last life’s glow,  Then hurled the hallow’d goblet  Into the flood below.  He saw it splashing, drinking,  And plunging in the sea;  His eyes meanwhile were sinking,  And never again drank he. “Margaret’s Song” by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1749–1832) in “Faust. Part I.”

Warning

“[Y]ou know ‘our’ people will warn you, ‘Don't get too spiritual.’ You never heard anybody saying ‘Don't get to rich’, ‘Don't get too much education’ but rather ‘Don't get too much spiritual’ . . . Do you know why? Because they’ve been dragging their feet for the last ten or twenty years, and they’re afraid you’ll get ahead of them.”

Leonard Ravenhill, “Give me Souls or I’ll die!”

Popular posts from this blog

Rock Me, Epictetus!

The Smooth-flowing Life