Goethe: Pleasures of the Mind

To strange conceits oft I myself must own…
For otherwise the pleasures of the mind
Bear us from book to book,
From page to page.
Then winter’s night grows cheerful;
Keen delight warms every limb;
And ah! when we unroll
Some old and precious parchment,
At the sight
All heaven itself descends upon the soul!

Goethe’s Faust

Excerpt, the 1850 Swanwick translation.


Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, 1775