Die Verbannten Kinder Evas
On A Faded Violet
The colour from the flower is gone,Which like thy sweet eves smiled on meThe odour from the flower is flow,Which breath of thee and only theeA withered, lifeless, vacant form,It lies on my abandoned breast,And mocks the heart which yet is warmWith cold and silent rest.I weep - my tears revive it not.I sigh - it breathes no more on meIts mute and uncomplaining lotIs such as mine should be
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