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THE LEGEND OF THE CROSSBILL.

FROM THE GERMAN OF JULIUS MOSEN.

On the cross the dying Saviour
Heavenward lifts his eyelids calm,
Feels, but scarcely feels, a trembling
In his pierced and bleeding palm.

And by all the world forsaken,

Sees he how with zealous care

At the ruthless nail of iron

A little bird is striving there.

Stained with blood and never tiring,
With its beak it doth not cease,

From the cross 't would free the Saviour,
Its Creator's Son release.

And the Saviour speaks in mildness: "Blest be thou of all the good' Bear, as token of this moment,

Marks of blood and holy rood!"

And that bird is called the crossbill;
Covered all with blood so clear,

In the groves of pine it singeth

Songs, like legends, strange to hear.

THE SEA HATH ITS PEARLS.

FROM THE GERMAN OF HEINRICH HEINE.

THE sea hath its pearls,

The heaven hath its stars;

But my heart, my heart,

My heart hath its love.

Great are the sea and the heaven;

Yet greater is my heart,

And fairer than pearls and stars

Flashes and beams my love.

Thou little, youthful maiden,
Come unto my great heart;

My heart, and the sea, and the heaven
Are melting away with love!

POETIC APHORISMS.

FROM THE SINNGEDICHTE OF FRIEDRICH VON LOGAU

SEVENTEENTH CENTURY.

MONEY.

WHEREUNTO is money good?

Who has it not wants hardihood,

Who has it has much trouble and care,

Who once has had it has despair.

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