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40 POEMS AND SONGS
The princess looked down from her bower high,
The youth ceased his blowing, his horn he laid by.
“Why are you so quiet? Now more shall you blow,
It lifts all my thoughts, that would far away go,
Now, when sets the sun.”
The princess looked down from her bower high,
. The youth blew again, as he lingered thereby.
Then weeping, she whispered: ““O God, let me know
The name of this sorrow that burdens me so! —
Now has set the sun.”
FROM MONTE PINCIO
Evenrnc is coming, the sun waxes red,
Radiant colors from heaven are beaming
Life’s lustrous longings in infinite streaming ;—
Glory in death o’er the mountains is spread.
Cupolas burn, but the fog in far masses
Over the bluish-black fields softly passes,
Rolling as whilom oblivion pale;
Hid is yon valley ’neath thousand years’ veil.
Evening so red and warm
Glows as the people swarm,
Notes of the cornet flare,
Flowers and brown eyes fair.
Great men of old stand in marble erected,
Waiting, scarce known and neglected.
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