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Joy

 Joy from that in type we borrow,
Which in life gives only sorrow.

JOY.

A DRAGON-FLY with beauteous wing
Is hov'ring o'er a silv'ry spring;
I watch its motions with delight,--
Now dark its colours seem, now bright;
Chameleon-like appear, now blue,
Now red, and now of greenish hue.
Would it would come still nearer me,
That I its tints might better see

It hovers, flutters, resting ne'er!

But hush! it settles on the mead.
I have it safe now, I declare!

 And when its form I closely view,

 'Tis of a sad and dingy blue--
Such, Joy-Dissector, is thy case indeed

 1767-9.

Poem by Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe
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