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82 It standeth now, though overgrown with moss; Scarce might I view it, hidden thus in green. I tore the herb off, watered it with tears. That grassy seat, where, through the summer noon, Thou didst among the maples love to rest; That spring, whose waters then I sought for thee— I found them all, looked on them, passed around. And even thy little arbour still remains. As with dry willow-twigs I fenced it in; And those dry twigs, a wonder, my Aldona, That once I planted in the barren sand, To-day thou wouldst not know them—lovely trees, And the light leaves of spring upon them wave, And on them grows the youthful catkin's down. Oh! seeing these, a blessing all unknown. Foreshadowing of joy, revived my heart; The trees embracing, on my knees I fell God! I cried, grant all may be fulfilled! Oh! may we, to our Fatherland restored, When dwelling in our Litwa's native fields. Again revive to life; may leaves of hope Again o'erdeck with green our destiny. Let us return! consent! I rule the Order; I will bid open. But what need commands? For were this door a thousand times more hard