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“I need not and seek not company,

Bonny boat, I can sing all alone; For the mainmast tall too heavy am I,

Bonny boat, I have wings of my own.

" High over the sails, high over the mast,

Who shall gainsay these joys ? When thy merry companions are still, at last,

Thou shalt hear the sound of my voice.

“Who neither may rest, nor listen may,

God bless them every one!
I dart away, in the bright blue day,

And the golden fields of the sun.

“ Thus do I sing my weary song,

Wherever the four winds blow;
And this same song, my whole life long,

Neither Poet nor Printer may know.”



I HEARD a brooklet gushing

From its rocky fountain near,
Down into the valley rushing,

So fresh and wondrous clear.

I know not what came o'er me,

Nor who the counsel gave;
But I must hasten downward,

All with my pilgrim-stave;


Downward, and ever farther,

And ever the brook beside; And ever fresher murmured,

And ever clearer, the tide.

Is this the way I was going?

Whither, O brooklet, say!
Thou hast, with thy soft murmur,

Murmured my senses away.

What do I say of a murmur?

That can no murmur be; 'Tis the water-nymphs that are singing

Their roundelays under me.

Let them sing, my friend, let them murmur',

And wander merrily near; The wheels of a mill are going

In every brooklet clear.

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She can both false and friendly be,

Beware! Beware!

Trust her not, She is fooling thee!

She has two eyes, so soft and brown,

Take care! She gives a side-glance and looks down,

Beware! Beware!

Trust her not, She is fooling thee!

And she has hair of a golden hue,

Take care:
And what she says, it is not true,

Beware! Beware!

Trust her not, She is fooling thee!

She has a bosom as white as snow,

Take care! She knows how much it is best to show,

Beware! Beware!

Trust her not, She is fooling thee!

She gives thee a garland woven fair,

Take care!
It is a fool's-cap for thee to wear,

Beware! Beware!

Trust her not, She is fooling thee!



Bell! thou soundest merrily,
When the bridal party

To the church doth hie!
Bell! thou soundest solemnly,
When, on Sabbath morning,

Fields deserted lie!

Bell! thou soundest merrily;
Tellest thou at evening,

Bed-time draweth nigh!
Bell! thou soundest mournfully;
Tellest thou the bitter

Parting hath gone by!

Say! how canst thou mourn?
How canst thou rejoice?

Thou art but metal dull!
And yet all our sorrowings,
And all our rejoicings,

Thou dost feel them all!

God hath wonders many,
Which we cannot fathom,

Placed within thy form!
When the heart is sinking,
Thou alone canst raise it,

Trembling in the storm !

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