Poem Hunter
The Christmas-Box
(28 August 1749 – 22 March 1832 / Frankfurt am Main)

The Christmas-Box

Poem By Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

THIS box, mine own sweet darling, thou wilt find
With many a varied sweetmeat's form supplied;
The fruits are they of holy Christmas tide,
But baked indeed, for children's use design'd.
I'd fain, in speeches sweet with skill combin'd,
Poetic sweetmeats for the feast provide;
But why in such frivolities confide?
Perish the thought, with flattery to blind!
One sweet thing there is still, that from within,
Within us speaks,--that may be felt afar;
This may be wafted o'er to thee alone.
If thou a recollection fond canst win,
As if with pleasure gleam'd each well-known star,
The smallest gift thou never wilt disown.

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Comments (1)

I would like to understand the true meaning behind this poem as I am not able to understand old English well. First of all, is the poem directed to his love interest? Any old English translation to the modern English would be appreciated.