To meet our kiss that seems to burn,--
"How I grieve to see thee sorrowing so!If thou think'st to clasp my form with joy,
WITHIN a gloomy charnel-house one day
Over meadows, to the spring,Round the hill, and through the wood.
And breathest many a sighO'er his and thy distress, thou holy One!
SEEST thou yon smiling Orange?Upon the tree still hangs it;Already March bath vanish'd,And new-born flow'rs are shooting.I draw nigh to the tree then,And there I say: Oh Orange,Thou ripe and juicy Orange,Thou sweet and luscious Orange,I shake the tree, I shake it,Oh fall into my lap!
Unchequer'd by alloy;The sacred double-numbers then
"For such a daughter, with what pleasing care,Would I, as father, happy dwellings raise!"
1789.-----WHO'LL BUY GODS OF LOVE?
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