Page:The Works of J. W. von Goethe, Volume 9.djvu/312

278 Though for one mortal, it is true, These trades may both be fitted, Yet, that the things themselves are two Must always be admitted.

Once on a time there lived a cook Whose skill was past disputing, Who in his head a fancy took To try his luck at shooting.

So, gun in hand, he sought a spot Where stores of game were breeding, And there ere long a cat he shot That on young birds was feeding.

This cat he fancied was a hare, Forming a judgment hasty, So served it up for people's fare Well spiced and in a pasty.

Yet many a guest with wrath was filled (All who had noses tender): The cat that's by the sportsman killed No cook a hare can render.

 JOY.

with beauteous wing Is hovering o'er a silvery spring; I watch its motions with delight,— Now dark its colours seem, now bright, Chameleon-like appears now blue, Now red, and now of greenish hue. Would it would come still nearer me, That I its tints might better see! 