Blog Poetry

At Midnight Hour By Goethe

AT midnight hour I went, not willingly,

A little, little boy, yon churchyard past,
To Father Vicar’s house; the stars on high

On all around their beauteous radiance cast,

             At midnight hour.

And when, in journeying o’er the path of life,

My love I follow’d, as she onward moved,
With stars and northern lights o’er head in strife,

Going and coming, perfect bliss I proved

             At midnight hour.

Until at length the full moon, lustre-fraught,

Burst thro’ the gloom wherein she was enshrined;
And then the willing, active, rapid thought

Around the past, as round the future twined,

             At midnight hour.

Ready to get started?

Are you ready
Get in touch or create an account.

Get Started