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In spreading mantle to my chin conceal'd, I trod the rocky path, so steep and grey, Then to the wintry plain I bent my way Uneasily, to flight my bosom steel'd. But sudden was the newborn day reveal'd: A maiden came, in heavenly bright array, Like the fair creatures of the poet's lay In realms of song. My yearning heart was heal'd. Yet turn'd I thence, till she had onward pass'd, While closer still the folds to draw I tried, As though with heat self-kindled to grow warm; But follow'd her. She stood. The die was cast! No more within my mantle could I hide; I threw it off,--she lay within mine arm. Johann Wolfgang von Goethe |
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