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Schiller 1
The Oak-wood murmurs
The Cloud pass sweep o'er
And the young maiden
Is on the green shore
The stream bursts forth with might, with might,
And sighs as it rolls thro' the gloomy night
And the eye with tears is dim.
My heart is perished
The world's a void
And nothing is left me
To be enjoyed
Holy one! call me to thy breast
I have been with all earthly , blest.
I loved, – & loved him
The tears flow swiftly
They flow in vain
Complaint awakes not
The dead again
Identifier: | JB/110/233/001 "JB/" can not be assigned to a declared number type with value 110.
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110 |
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233 |
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001 |
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collectanea |
4 |
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recto |
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sir john bowring |
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36223 |
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