"Es lobe, wer sich taper hilt Goethe's Funst, The wild prunes blossom, red and white, Tu wintry air.* Heavy with orange, in sun-li The groves are fair, The pearl-like river, silent, sure, A blight, was bitter as the brine Of the sult sex, 0 thy noble iit yearned nobler selion Dreams of " nobler age returned, Alas! but drew Last on the river-girdled spot,—Thy spacious home, Spacious but lone, for was not That should have com We ant and talked of modern creed And ancient lore Of modern goapel—gush greed, Now to the fore, Thy fervent hope it was to juin The hart with best break down the dividing line West, albeit race, evermore Shall be with me thy noble face With " world sorrow For thy great heart, Since from us, who still serve and wait, jou would'st depart, Farewell The swift-wheeled ship will bring To thy far West The tidings, while I, gi sing Thos to thy rest.
Kv Hoxe Mixe.
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.