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lovers seek the wood together,

For shelter—when a mighty bough,

Riven by the fierce and stormy weather,

Falls—and they both are corpses now.

well! their-fate is bliss—far sweeter

That both should die—than one remain

To mourn—a solitary creature—

Thro' wearying, wasting years in vain.

! how beautiful! beautiful! she

More beautiful yet at the altar will be:

"Then take me, dear youth!

O take me, and. see

My beauty shall brighten in love and in truth.