And yet thou art trailing in sorrow and sadnessThe moments that life, as it flies, gave for gladness,
PAGE.Is't a silent thicket I yonder view?
Ply the oar and nimbly row,And with zeal your prowess mark!
If I'm at home or no.
Bore in his tube the light.
Nature's most beauteous flower,'Till gather'd by my love, and press'd,When weary, 'gainst her gentle breast,For e'en, for e'en
[Written on the occasion of Goethe's starting with his friendPassavant on a Swiss Tour.]
Grant to thy child relief,And view with mercy this unhappy one!
Whisper softly to his heart;Yet, to give him pain, beware,
Listen'd and sang merrily,Down descended the decoy,
Love, thou art too fair, I ween!Fairer I have never seen!From the heart full easilyBlooming flowers are cull'd by thee.If I think: "Oh, were it so,"Bone and marrow seen to glow!If rewarded by her love,Can I greater rapture prove?
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