OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Excellent new song, called, Wonderful admiration!/Remember Jack

Remember Jack.
WHEN scarce a handspike high, Death with old dad made free; So what does I do d'ye think, But pikes it off to sea, Says I to sweetheart Poll, If ever I come back, We'll laugh and sing tol de rol lol, If not, remember Jack.
I'd fortune smooth and rough, The wind would chop and vere; Till hard knocks I'd nabb'd enough On board a privateer. ​Propp'd with a wooden peg, Poll I thought would bid me pack; So I was forc'd dy'e see, to beg, And 'twas-Pray remember Jack.
I ax'd, as folks hove by, And shew'd my wooden pin; Young girls would sometimes sigh, And gaping lubbers grin. In vain I'd often bawl, My hopes were ta'en aback, And my share of copper small; So pray remember Jack.
One day, my lockers bare, And tugs all tatter'd grown, I twigg'd a pinnace fair, Well rigg'd a bearing down. 'Twas Poll-she look'd so spruce: "What thus;" says she, "come back!" My tongue forgot its use, And pray remember Jack.
What matters much to prate, She'd shiners sav'd a few; Soon I became her mate: Wa'nt, Poll a sweetheart true? Then a friend I sarv'd before, From a long voyage trips back: Shar'd I with his gold galore, For he well remember'd Jack
​So what though I lost my leg, It seem'd to fortune mend; And though forc'd dy'e see, to beg, I gain'd a wife and friend. Here's the king, Old England, Poll, My shipmate just come back, Then laugh and sing tol de rol lol, And pray remember Jack.
# Excellent new song, called, Wonderful admiration!/The braw lass of Gala Water

Braw Lass of Cala water,
BRAW, braw lass of Gala water, Bonie lass of Gala water, O I wade wide the stream sae deep, For you, braw lass of Gala water. Fair her hair, a' brent her brow, Sae bonnie blue, her een an' chearie, The mair I kiss her cherry lips, The mair I wish her for my dearie.
O'er yon bank, an' o'er yon brae, Thro' a' the mossy muir an heather, o I wad rin wi' heart sea light, Wi' my dear lassie to forgether. Bonie lass of Gala water, Braw braw lass of Gala water, The glentine that fills my e'e Is you, braw lass of Gala water.
FINIS.
# Bonny lass of Calder Braes (1)

The Bonny Lass
OF
CALDER BRAES,
To which are added,
The Snug Little Island,
Jenny's Bawbee,
AND
Q Mary of Scotland’s
Farwel to Calais.
Falkirk, Printed in the Year 1820.
* The Bonny lass of Calder Braes
* The Snug Little Island
* Jenny's Bawbee
* Mary, Queen of Scotland's Farewel to Calais
This work was published before January 1, 1930, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# Bonny lass of Calder Braes (1)/The Snug Little Island

THE SNUG LITTLE ISLAND.
Daddy Neptune one day to Freedom did say. If ever I liv’d upon dry land, The spot I should hit on, would be little Britain. Says Freedom, Why that’s my own island.
O what a snug little Island! A right little, tight little island: All the globe round, none can be found So happy as this little island.
Julius Caesar, the Roman, who yielded to no man, Came by water, he could'nt come by land; And Dane, Pict and Saxon, their homes turn’d their backs on, And all for the sake of our island.
​O what a snug little Island! They’d all have a touch at the Island Some were shot dead, some of them fled, And some stay'd to live in the Island.
Then a very great war-man, call’d Billy, the Norman, Cry’d Damn it, I never liked my land; It would be much more handy to leave this Normandy, And live on yon beautiful Island.
Says he, 'Tis a snug little Island; Shan't us go visit the Island? Hop, skip and jump, there he was plump, And he kick’d up a dust in the Island.
Yet party deceit help’d the Normans to beat, Of traitors they manag’d to buy land; By Dane, Saxon, or Pict, we ne’er had been lick’d Had they stuck to the King of the Island.
Poor Harold, the King of the Island, He lost both his life and his Island; That's very true—what could he do? Like a Briton he died for his Island.
Then the Spanish Armada set out to invade a', Quite sure, if they ever came nigh land, The cou’dn’t do no less than tuck up Queen Bess, And take their full swing in the Island,
​O the poor Queen of the Island! The Dons came to plunder the Island, But, snug in her hive, the Queen was alive; And buz was the word at the Island.
These proud puff’d-up cakes, thought to make ducks and drakes Of our wealth, but they scarcely could spy land, Ere our Drake had the luck to make their pride duck, And stoop to the lads of the Island.
Huzza, for the lads of the Island! The good wooden walls of the Island! Devil or Don, let ’em come on, But how would they come off at the Island?
I don’t wonder much, that the French and the Dutch, Have since been oft tempted to try land: I wonder much less they have met no success. For why should we give up our Island?
O ’tis a wonderful Island! All of 'em long for the Island: Hold a bit there—let ’em take fire and air, But we’ll have the sea and the Island.
Then since Freedom and Neptune have hithereto kept tune. In each saying, This shall be my land, ​Should the army of England, or all they could bring, land, We’d shew ’em some play for the Island.
We’d fight for our right to the Island, We’d give ’em enough of the Island; Frenchmen should just—bite at our dust, But not a bit more of the Island.
# Bonny lass of Calder Braes (1)/Jenny's Bawbee

JENNY’S BAWBEE.
I met four chaps yon birks amang, Wi’ hanging lug, and faces lang. I speer’d at niebour Baldy Strang, What are they these we see? Quoth he Ilk cream-fac’d pawky chiel, Thinks himsell cunning as the de'il, And here they cam awa to steal Jenny’s bawbee.
The first, a Captain to his trade, Wi’ ill lin’d scull, and back well clad, March’d roun’ the barn, and bye the shed, And papped on his knee: Quoth he, My bonny nymph and queen, Your beauty’s dazzl’d baith my een: But feint a beauty he had seen But Jenny’s bawbee.
​A norlan’ Laird neist trotted up, Wi' bassen’d nag, and siller whip. Cry’d. Here's my beast lad, had he grip Or tie him to a tree; What’s goud to me. I’ve wealth o’ lan'? Bellow on ane o’ worth your han’. He thought to pay what he was awn Wi’ Jenny's bawbee.
A lawyer niest wi' blatherin’ gab, Wi' speeches wove like ony web; In ilk anes corn he took a dab, An' a' for a fee : Accounts he ow’d thro’ a’ the town. And tradesmen's tongues nae mair cou’d drown But now he thought to clout his gown Wi' Jenny’s bawbee.
Quite spruce, just frae the washing tubs, A fool came neist, but life has rubs, Foul were the roads, and fu' the dubs, And fair besmear'd was he: He danc'd up, squintin' thro' a glass, And grinn'd—I faith, a bonny lass He thought to win wi’ front o’ brass, And Jenny’s bawbee.
She bade the laird gae kaim his wig, The soldier not to strut sae big. The lawyer not to be a prig, The fool he cry'd, Tee-hee: ​I ken'd that I cou’d never fail; But she prin’d the dish-clout to his tail, And cool'd him wi' a water-pail, And kept her bawbee.
Then Johny cam', a lad o’ sense, Altho' he had na mony pence, He took young Jenny to the spence, Wi’ her to crack a wee: Now Johny was a clever chiel, And here his suit he press’d sae weel, That Jenny's heart grew saft as jeel, And she birl'd her bawbee.
# Bonny lass of Calder Braes (1)/Mary, Queen of Scotland's Farewel to Calais

MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTLAND's Farewel to Calais.
Farewell, sweet seat of innocence & mirth, Where first my breast to youthful joys beat true: O France! thou dearest region of the earth And you, my early blissful days, adieu!
The bark that seems to bear me thus away. Yet peans of me, poor exile, but a part; In thy lov’d haunts, where I was wont to stray, I've left the prime affections of my heart.
These still are thine, nor am I quite bereft, If but with these thy fostering smiles agree; For still recurring to its pledges left. My sympathizing soul shall tend to thee.
FINIS.
# The Witch of Aleppo

* information about this edition
* sister projects: Wikidata item
Extracted from Adventure magazine, Vol 44, 30 January 1924, pp. 1-69. [#Demid, Ayub]. The koshevoi—the chief of the Cossacks' warrior bands—has been kidnapped, and a king's ransom demanded. The coffers are empty. Can Demid and Ayub plunder enough in time? Failure means the chief's beheading.
THE WITCH OF ALEPPO
A COMPLETE NOVEL
by Harold Lamb
Author of “Men from Below,” “The King Dies,” etc.

### CONTENTS

* Chapter I. In Barracks
* Chapter II. The Gallows Birds
* Chapter III. The Straight Sword
* Chapter IV. Ayub Casts A Net
* Chapter V. The ways of the sea are blind ways
* Chapter VI. Ibnol Hammamgi
* Chapter VIII. Lali Makes A Promise
* Chapter VIII. Where his grave is dug there shall a man die
* Chapter IX. The Voice In The Darkness
* Chapter X. The Zineh Of Allepo
* Chapter XI. Ayub Issues A Challenge
* Chapter XII. A woman's wit is sharp as the dagger of a Rifi thief
* Chapter XIII. Where the road ends the warriors dismount
Copyright. 1924, by The Ridgway Company in the States and Great Britain. All rights reserved.
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1930.
The longest-living author of this work died in 1962, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 62 years or less. This work may be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# Jenny's bawbee. To which are added, The Caledonian Laddie. The Tippling Old Cobbler.

JENNY’S
Bawbee.
To which are added,
the caledonian laddie.
The Tippling Old Cobbler.
haddington.
Printed by G. Miller:—at whose Shop may be had a variety of Pamphlets, Ballads, Children's Books, Pictures, Catechisms, &c.
WHOLESALE and RETAIL.
* Jenny's Bawbee
* The Caledonian Laddie
* The Tippling Old Cobbler
This work was published before January 1, 1930, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# Jenny's bawbee. To which are added, The Caledonian Laddie. The Tippling Old Cobbler./The Caledonian Laddie

BLYTHE Sandy is a bonny boy, And always is a wooing, Nor is he e’er too bold or coy, Although he is a-looing;
Last night he press’d me to his breast, And vow’d he’d ask my daddy, O ! O dear, to wed me he confess’d— The Caledonian Laddie, O. O my bonny, bonny Highland boy ! O my bonny, bonny Highland boy ! My bonny, bonny, bonny Highland boy, The Caledonian laddie, O.
The maidens try both far and near, To gain young Sandy over; But a’ their arts I dinna’ fear, He winna prove a rover : For sure he told me frank and free, Unknown to mam or daddy, O He’d marry none (ah no !) but me-— The Caledonian laddie, O.
The other day, from Dundee fair, He brought me home a bonnet; A cap, and ribbons for my hair ; But mark what soon came on it, As late at kirk we somehow stood, In spite of mam or daddy, O, He married me do all I could, The Caledonian laddie, O,
# Jenny's bawbee. To which are added, The Caledonian Laddie. The Tippling Old Cobbler./The Tippling Old Cobbler

A TIPPLING old cobler in London did dwell, In a snug little house nigh the sign of the bell, And he had a daughter, whose name it was Nanny, So soft and so lazy she cou’d’nt work any. Derry down, down, hey derry down.
She oft went to service but never could stay, Her aye took the head-ach ; this did her dismay ; Till at last a Tambourer, as you may remark, Gave employment to her, and she dress’d for a spark.
At this trade it is said she did very well, And few at such handy work could her excel ; But at scullion, or scodgy, she never could settle. ​Being too servile trades for a lass of such mettle.
Now since I've describ'd the Cobler’s daughter Whole conduct, no doubt, will create some laughter; I’ll give you a sketch of the tippler’s own life, And the end of my song will tell of his wife.
At three or four in the afternoon he goes to bed, Thus he suffers himself by drink to be led ; At one in the morning, he rises again. And then to get at his work is very sain.
He works till his daughter and wife do arise, To work after that, is what he doth despise ; Out he goes after breakfast, and gives a wink. Then sets to the ale-house all day for to drink
He tipples the morning and all the forenoon, When daughter and wife’s in bed he mends his shoon; In the afternoon drunk he goes to repose, ​As I told you before to take a bit dose.
An accident now I will unto you tell, That to his wife Joan lately befel ; As she look’d o’er the window one day at a gig, He gave her a push o’er, and laid her for dead.
But it happ’ned she only had broken her leg, For that the old fool cared not a fig ; And soon it fell out, that her leg grew hale, And she goes about now as it did not her fail.
Ye good people all who read this ditty o’er, From drinking refrain, while his fate you deplore, For the cobler we’re told having drunk too much, Tumbled heads over heels and was cheaked in a ditch.
FINIS.
# Auld Gudeman

* "Auld Gudeman Ye're a Drunken Carle", in Young lasses' song, or, What wou'd a young lassie do wi' an auld man (n.d.), a chapbook printed in Falkirk
* "Auld Gudeman", in The Book of Scottish Song (1843), edited by Alexander Whitelaw
# Young lasses' song, or, What wou'd a young lassie do wi' an auld man/Auld Gudeman Ye're a Drunken Carle

AULD GUDEMAN
YE'RE A DRUNKEN CARLE.
Auld gudeman, ye're a drunken carle, drunken carle, A' the lang day ye wink and drink, and gape and gaunt; Of Scottiſh loons ye're the pink and pearl, pink and pearl, Ill-far'd, doited, ne'er-do-weel.
​Hech, gudewife, ye're a flytin body, flytin body; Will yo hae, but, gude be prais'd, the Wit ye want; The puttin cow ſhould be aye a ⟨daddy⟩, aye a daddy; Mak na ſic an awſome reel.
Ye're a ſow, auld man, Ye get ſou, auld man; ⟨For⟩ ſhame, auld man, ⟨To your⟩ wame, auld man; ⟨Pinch'd⟩ I win, wi' ſpinin tow, A ⟨plack to⟩ clead ye're back and pow.
It's a lie, gudewife, It's your tea, gudewife; Na. na. gudewife, Te ſpend a', gudewife, ⟨Dinna⟩ fa' on me pell-mell, Ye like the drap fu' weel yourſel.
Ye's rue, auld gouk, your jeſt and frolic, jeſt and frolic; Dare ye ſay, goofe, I ever lik'd to tak a drappy! ​An' 'twerna juſt for to cure the colic, cure the colic, Deil a drap wad weet my mou.
Troth, gudewife, ye wadna ſwither, wadna ſwither, Soon ſoon to tak a cholic, when it brings a drap o' cappy. But twa ſcore years we hae fought the-gither, fought thegither, Time it is to gree, I trow.
I'm wrang, auld John; Owre lang, auld John, For nought, gude John, We hae fought, gude John; Let's help to bear ilk ither's weight, We're far owre feckleſs now to fight.
Ye're right, gudewife, The night, gudewife, Our cup, gude Kate, We'll ſup, gude Kate, Thegither frae this hour we'll draw, And toom the ſtoup atween us twa.
# The Book of Scottish Song/Auld Gudeman

Auld Gudeman.
[Written by Sir Alexander Boswell to the old tune called "The East Neuk o' Fife," and inserted in Thomson's Select Melodies of Scotland.]
Auld gudeman, ye're a drucken carle, drucken carle; A' the lang day ye wink and drink, and gape and gaunt; O' sottish loons ye're the pink and pearl, pink and pearl, Ill-far'd, doited ne'er-do-weel.
Hech, gudewife! ye're a flyting body, fiyting body; Will ye ha'e; but, guid be praised, the wit ye want. The puttin' cow should be aye a doddy, ayca doddy. Mak' na sic an awsome reel.
Ye're a sow, auld man: Ye get fou, auld man: Fye for shame, auld man, To your wame, auld man: Pinch'd I win, wi' spinnin' tow, A plack to cleid your back and pow. It's a lie, gudewife. It's your tea, gudewife, Na, na, gudewife, Ye spend a', gudewife. Dinna fa’ on me pell mell, Ye like the drap fu' weel yoursell.
Ye's rue, auld gowk, your jest and frolic, jest and frolic. Dare ye say, goose, I ever liked to tak' a drappy?
An 'twerena just to cure the cholic, cure the cholic, Deil a drap wad weet my mou'.
Troth, gudewife, an' ye wadna swither, wadna swither,
Soon to tak' a cholic, when it brings a drap o' cappy. But twascore years we ha'e fought thegither, fought thegither; Time it is to gree, I trow.
I'm wrang, auld John Ower lang, auld John, For nought, gude John, We ha'e fought, gude John; Let's help to bear ilk ither's weight, We're far ower feckless now to fight. Ye're richt, gude Kate; The nicht, gude Kate, Our cup, gude Kate, We'll sup, gude Kate; Thegither frae this hour we'll draw, And toom the stoup atween us twa.
# The Poetical Works of Robert Burns/Open the Door to me, Oh!

OPEN THE DOOR TO ME, OH!
WITH ALTERATIONS.
# The Poetical Works of Robert Burns/Meg o' the Mill

MEG O' THE MILL.
AIR—'O, BONIE LASS, WILL YOU LIE IN A BARRACK.'
# The Poetical Works of Robert Burns/Jessie

JESSIE.
TUNE—'BONIE DUNDEE.'
# Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography and Mythology/Erebos

​E'REBOS (Ἔρεβος), a son of Chaos, begot Aether and Hemera by Nyx, his sister. (Hesiod. Theog. 123.) Hyginus (Fab. p. 1) and Cicero (de Nat. Deor. iii. 17) enumerate many personifications of abstract notions as the offspring of Erebos. The name signifies darkness, and is therefore applied also to the dark and gloomy space under the earth, through which the shades pass into Hades. (Hom. Il. viii. p. 368; comp. Hades.[L. S.]
# The Poetical Works of Robert Burns/Wandering Willie

WANDERING WILLIE.
# Department of Public Criticism

This is a disambiguation page. It lists works that share the same title. If an article link referred you here, please consider editing it to point directly to the intended page.
The Department of Public Criticism was a division of the United Amateur Press Association, which fulfilled its duties by reports printed in The United Amateur, which reviewed recent U. A. P. A.–associated amateur periodicals and work published by U. A. P. A. writers. H. P. Lovecraft, the Chairman of the Department for several years, wrote several such reports, which are listed below. See Portal:Writings in the United Amateur.
* January 1915
* March 1915
* May 1915
* September 1915
* April 1916
* June 1916
* August 1916
* September 1916
* March 1917
* May 1917
* July 1917
* November 1917
* May 1918
* March 1919
# Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography and Mythology/Eresus

​E'RESUS (Ἔρεσος), a son of Macar, from whom the town of Eresus in Lesbos derived its name. (Steph. Byz. s.v.) A second otherwise unknown person of this name was painted in the Lesche at Delphi. (Paus. x. 27.)[L. S.]
# Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography and Mythology/Ereuthalion

​EREUTHA'LION (Ἐρευθαλίων), an Arcadian, who, in the armour of Areithous, which Lycurgus had given him, fought against the Pylians, but was slain by Nestor. (Hom. Il. iv. 319, vii. 134, &c.)[L. S.]
# The Knickerbocker/Volume 64/Number 3/The Sweeper of Dunluce

Layout 2
THE SWEEPER OF DUNLUCE: A LEGEND.
# Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography and Mythology/Ergamenes

​ERGA'MENES (Ἐργαμένης), a king of Meroe, an Ethiopian by birth, but who had received a Greek education. He was the first who overthrew the power of the priests, which had been paramount to that of the sovereign, and established a despotic authority. He was contemporary with Ptolemy Philadelphus, but we know nothing of the relations in which he stood towards that monarch. His name has been discovered in the hieroglyphics at Dakkeh, whence it is inferred that his dominions extended as far north as that point. (Diod. iii. 6; Droysen, Hellenismus, vol. ii. p. 49, 278.)[E. H. B.]
# The Opry House

Disney Cartoons present A Mickey Mouse Sound Cartoon
The Opry House
A Walt Disney Comic by Ub Iwerks Recorded by Powers Cinephone System Copyright MCMXXIX
Opry House
Big Vaudeville Show
Yankee Doodle Girls
Tickets
Yankee Doodle Girls Today
Stage
Asbestos
Pop
Cats
Soap
Asbestos
Piano Hahahaha! Hahahaha! Hahahaha!
Mickey Mouse
The End
A Walt Disney Comic
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1930.
Copyright law abroad tends to consider the following people authors of a film:
* The principal director
* The screenwriter, and/or other writers of dialogue
* The composer/lyricist (if the film is accompanied by sound)
* The cinematographer
* By extension, the authors of any works that may serve as the basis for a film's plot
The longest-living of these authors died in 1972, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 52 years or less. This work may be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography and Mythology/Ergane

​E'RGANE (Ἐργάνη) or E'RGATIS, that is, the worker, a surname of Athena, who was believed to preside over and instruct man in all kinds of arts. (Paus. v. 14. § 5, i. 24. § 3; Plut. de Fort. p. 99, a.; Hesych. s.v.)[L. S.]
# March

* Search for titles containing or beginning with: "March"
* sister projects: Wikipedia article, Wikidata item
This is a disambiguation page. It lists works that share the same title. If an article link referred you here, please consider editing it to point directly to the intended page.
* “March,” a poem by Elizabeth Chase Allen
* “March,” a poem by Martha Julia Elliott
* “March,” a poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
* “March” (Beneath the sheltering walls the thin snow clings), a poem by Helen Hunt Jackson
* “March” (Month which the warring ancients strangely styled), a poem by Helen Hunt Jackson
* “March,” a poem by Thomas Henry Kendall
* “March,” a poem by H. P. Lovecraft
* “March,” a poem by Mary Noel McDonald
* “March,” a poem by Elizabeth Stoddard
* “March,” a poem by Celia Thaxter
* “March,” a poem by Clara Augusta Jones Trask

### See also

* "March," in The New Student's Reference Work, Chicago: F.E. Compton and Co. (1914)
# Collection of popular songs (1)/Had I a heart

This song appears in Act I of The Duenna by Richard Brinsley Sheridan
HAD I A HEART.
Had I a heart for falsehood fram’d, I ne’er could injure you; For tho’ your tongue no promise claim’d, Your charms would make me true. To you no soul shall bear deceit, No stranger offer wrong; But friends in all the ag’d you’ll meet; And lovers in the young.
But when they learn that you have blest Another with your heart: They’ll bid aspiring passion rest, and act a brother’s part. Then, lady, dread not here deceit, Nor fear to suffer wrong, For friends in the ag’d you’ll meet, And brothers in the young.
FINIS.
# The United Amateur/March 1915/March

March
Let other bards with nobler talents sing The beauties of the mild, maturer spring. My rustic Muse on bleaker times must dwell, When Earth, but new-escap’d from winter’s spell, Uncloth’d, unshelter’d, unadorn’d, is seen; Stript of white robes, nor yet array’d in green. Hard blows the breeze, but with a warmer force. The melting ground, the brimming watercourse, The wak’ning air, the birds’ returning flight, The long sunshine, and the shorter night, Arcturus’ beams, and Corvus’ glitt’ring rays, Diffuse a promise of the genial days. Yon muddy remnant of the winter snow Shrinks humbly in the equinoctial glow, Whilst in the fields precocious grass-blades peep Above the earth so lately wrapt in sleep. What sweet, elusive odor fills the soil, To rouse the farmer to his yearly toil!
Though thick the clouds, and bare the maple bough, With what gay song he guides the cumbrous plough! In him there stirs, like sap within the tree, The joyous call to new activity: The outward scene, however dull and drear, Takes on a splendor from the inward cheer. Prophetic month! Would that I might rehearse Thy hidden beauties in sublimer verse: Thy glorious youth, thy vigor all unspent, Thy stirring winds, of spring and winter blent, Summer brings blessings of enervate kind; Thy joys, O Marsh, are ecstasies of mind. In June we revel in the bees’ soft hum, But March exalts us with the bliss to come
—H. P. Lovecraft.
# The Works of J. W. von Goethe/Volume 9/March

MARCH.
The snowflakes fall in showers, The time is absent still, When all Spring's beauteous flowers, When all Spring's beauteous flowers Our hearts with joy shall fill.
With lustre false and fleeting The sun's bright rays are thrown; The swallow's self is cheating, The swallow's self is cheating; And why? He comes alone!
​Can I e'er feel delighted Alone, though Spring is near? Yet when we are united, Yet when we are united, The summer will be here.