

THE CAPTIVE AND THE FLOWERS. 



FROM THE GERMAN OF GOETHE. 



A FLOWER that's wondrous fair, I know, 



My bosom holds it dear ; 

 To seek that flower I long to go, 



Bui am imprison'd here. 

 'Tis no light grief oppresses me; 

 For in the days my steps were free, 



I had it always near. 

 Far round the tower I send mine eye, 



The tower so steep and tall ; 

 But nowhere can the flower descry 



From this high castle wall ; 

 And him who'll bring me my desire 

 Or be he knight, or be he squire, 



My dearest friend I'll call. 

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