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Her cheeks deep-dyed with bashful truth,
The virgin stands before his sight.
Then doth a nameless longing seize
His youthful heart; alone herambles;
The frequent tear breaks from his eye;
He shuns his brethren's noisy gambols:
Blushing, he follows in her track,
And is but by her greeting blest;
And to adorn his Love brings back
From flowery meads the loveliest.

Otender yearning! O sweet hope !
Of love the golden age is this;
The eye doth see the heavens ope;
The heart doth revel in deep bliss.
Oh! that it ever green might prove,
That beauteous season of young love.

Already how the pipes are brown'd!
This little staff I now dip in;
If glaz'd over it be found,
Then the casting may begin.
Hither, comrades, hie!
Quick the mixture try;
If the pliant with the brittle
Join to make the proper metal.

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For then a perfect tone we find,
When soft and hard are well combin’d,
The mild united with the strong.
Who then would form eternal bonds
Should weigh if heart to heart responds,
The dream is short–repentance long.

Mid the bridal tresses slinging
Plays the virgin garland bright,
When the clear ton'd church-bells ringing
To the festive scene invite.
Ah! life's fairest festival
Closes also life's young May;
With the girdle, with the veil,
The fine illusion's torn away.

Passion may fly,
Love should endure;
The blossom may die,
The fruit shall mature;
The man must abroad
Into hostile life,
Mid labour and strife,
With craft and with pain,
Must gather and gain,
Must venture and stake,
Good luck to o'ertake.

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Then endless wealth rushes in, like a stream,
With costly possessions the granariesteem ;
The space is extended-enlarged the abode:
And indoors governs

The modest housewife,

The mother of children,

And wisely doth steer

The domestic sphere;

And schooleth the girls,

And ruleth the boys;

And plies without end

Her diligent hand;

And the stock doth enlarge
By her orderly charge;
And fills with treasures the scent-breathing chests;
And the thread round the whirring spindle she twists;
And the bright polish'd coffer she storeth full
With snowy white linen, and shimmering wool;
The useful with beauty and brightness investing,

And never resting.

And the father, with cheerful look, From his home's far-seeing roof, Reckons o'er his flourishing stock; The lofty poles of the stacks discerns, And the well-filled spaces of the barns,

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