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 [Probably addressed to his mistress Frederica.
] LET mine eye the farewell say, That my lips can utter ne'er; Fain I'd be a man to-day, Yet 'tis hard, oh, hard to bear! Mournful in an hour like this Is love's sweetest pledge, I ween; Cold upon thy mouth the kiss, Faint thy fingers' pressure e'en.
Oh what rapture to my heart Used each stolen kiss to bring! As the violets joy impart, Gather'd in the early spring.
Now no garlands I entwine, Now no roses pluck.
for thee, Though 'tis springtime, Fanny mine, Dreary autumn 'tis to me! 1771.

by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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