Haste not! Rest not!

Anonymous translation from the German “Ohne Hast, ohne Rast.” WITHOUT haste! without rest! Bind the motto to thy breast; Bear it with thee as a spell: Storm and sunshine guard it well! Heed not flowers that round thee bloom, Bear it onward to the tomb. Haste not! Let no thoughtless deed Mar for aye the spirit’s speed; Ponder well, and know the right; Onward, then, with all thy might. Haste not! Years can ne’er atone For one reckless action done. Rest not! Life is sweeping by; Go and dare before you die: Something mighty and sublime Leave behind to conquer time! Glorious ’t is to live for aye, When these forms have passed away. Haste not! Rest not! Calmly wait; Meekly bear the storms of fate! Duty be thy polar guide,— Do the right, whate’er betide! Haste not! Rest not! Conflicts past, God shall crown thy work at last.

Collection: 
English
1769
Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe
Sub Title: 
Poems of Sentiment: VI. Labor and Rest

More from Poet

  • Haste not! Rest not!

    Anonymous translation from the German “Ohne Hast, ohne Rast.” WITHOUT haste! without rest! Bind the motto to thy breast; Bear it with thee as a spell: Storm and sunshine guard it well! Heed not flowers that round thee bloom, Bear it onward to the tomb. Haste not! Let no thoughtless deed Mar for...

  • Mignon’s Song

    From the German by Thomas Carlyle From “Wilhelm Meister” “KNOW’ST thou the land where citron-apples bloom, And oranges like gold in leafy gloom, A gentle wind from deep-blue heaven blows, The myrtle thick, and high the laurel grows? Know’st thou it then? ’T is there! ’T is...

  • The Fisher

    From the German by Charles Timothy Brooks THE WATERS purled, the waters swelled,— A fisher sat near by, And earnestly his line beheld With tranquil heart and eye; And while he sits and watches there, He sees the waves divide, And, lo! a maid, with glistening hair, Springs from the...

  • The Erl-King

    From the German by Sir Theodore Martin and William Edmondstoune Aytoun WHO rides so late through the midnight blast? ’T is a father spurs on with his child full fast; He gathers the boy well into his arm, He clasps him close and he keeps him warm. “My son, why thus to my arm dost cling?”— “...

  • Le Roi des Aulnes

    Qui chevauche si tard à travers la nuit et le vent ?
    C’est le père avec son enfant.
    Il porte l’enfant dans ses bras,
    Il le tient ferme, il le réchauffe.

    « Mon fils, pourquoi cette peur, pourquoi te cacher ainsi le visage ?
    Père, ne vois-tu pas le roi des Aulnes,...