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The merchant on his argosy
A look of pride is bending, The fisherman in rags hard-by
A tattered net is mending.
To right, a haven fair and wide,
To left, the breakers tumbling; Here gallantly the vessels ride,
And there a wreck is crumbling.
'Tis noisy mirth and silent care,
Sunshine and gusty weather, And greetings, partings, everywhere,
While sails flit hither, thither.
Two maidens sit upon the shore :
One, roses round her flinging;
Her hands, impatient, wringing.
· The nom de plume of Count Anton Auersperg. He died September 12, 1876.
Off the giddy boy has borne
Roselet in the dingle;
Nought availed to flout and scorn,
Nought to flush and tingle. Roselet, roselet, roselet red,
Roselet in the dingle.
And so we part ! 'Tis thine to banish
The hope that late our passion fed : Half of my life with thee will vanish;
Yet I shall live-be comforted !
The thread of life, indeed, is slender,
But it is tough—exceeding tough ; It bears the plunge from transport tender
To heavy sorrow well enough.
A truce then to thy sad foreboding
Be not disquieted for me-
I shall survive, apart from thee !