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Translations. - Lyrisches Intermezzo. Xlv. (From Heine.)
By George MacDonald
In the sunny summer morning
Into the garden I come;
The flowers are whispering and talking,
But for me, I wander dumb.
The flowers are whispering and talking;
They pity my look so wan:
"Thou must not be cross with our sister,
Thou sorrowful, pale-faced man!"
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