No More Learning

_Martha_. 'Twill do in youth's tumultuous maze
To wander round the world, a careless rover;
But soon will come the evil days,
And then, a lone dry stick, on the grave's brink to hover,
For that nobody ever prays.

_Mephistopheles_. The distant prospect shakes my reason.

_Martha_. Then, worthy sir, bethink yourself in season.
[_They pass on_. ]

_Margaret_. Yes, out of sight and out of mind!
Politeness you find no hard matter;
But you have friends in plenty, better
Than I, more sensible, more refined.

_Faust_. Dear girl, what one calls sensible on earth,
Is often vanity and nonsense.

_Margaret_. How?

_Faust_.
Ah, that the pure and simple never know
Aught of themselves and all their holy worth!
That meekness, lowliness, the highest measure
Of gifts by nature lavished, full and free--

_Margaret_. One little moment, only, think of me,
I shall to think of you have ample time and leisure.

_Faust_. You're, may be, much alone?

_Margaret_. Our household is but small, I own,
And yet needs care, if truth were known.
We have no maid; so I attend to cooking, sweeping,
Knit, sew, do every thing, in fact;
And mother, in all branches of housekeeping,
Is so exact!
Not that she need be tied so very closely down;
We might stand higher than some others, rather;
A nice estate was left us by my father,
A house and garden not far out of town.
Yet, after all, my life runs pretty quiet;
My brother is a soldier,
My little sister's dead;
With the dear child indeed a wearing life I led;
And yet with all its plagues again would gladly try it,
The child was such a pet.

_Faust_. An angel, if like thee!

_Margaret_. I reared her and she heartily loved me.
She and my father never saw each other,
He died before her birth, and mother
Was given up, so low she lay,
But me, by slow degrees, recovered, day by day.
Of course she now, long time so feeble,
To nurse the poor little worm was unable,
And so I reared it all alone,
With milk and water; 'twas my own.