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Retire to bed, and for we drink nor tea
Nor more exciting coffee sweet, sound sleep.
Next morning, breakfast without tea or coffee :
From both we have suffered and have both renounced,
And prize more our composure all day long,
And sleep at night, and appetite unimpaired,
And steady, tranquil, unembarrassed pulse,
Than the narcotic's treacherous, short-lived joy.
Avaunt, then, Tea and Coffee! To your caves,
Malignant spirits, and with Opium hide
And foul Nicotiana and the juice
That turns the Abyssinian hunter's brain;
And take with ye Ennui and Devils Blue,
And moping, dull Despondency and Heartache,
And let me never see ye more, or hear
Your hated names, but, if I can, forget
That I was once your worshipper and bard.
The morning fair, July the twenty-sixth,
We leave at ten the Swan and follow on,
Along the stately poplar colonnade,
Our road through Bieber, distant one short hour.
From my youth up I 've loved a colonnade
Of whispering poplar, tall and fresh and green,
But till today such colonnade trod never
Of whispering poplar, tall and fresh and green,
As echoed to our footstep the whole way

From Offenbach to Bieber.
Walking from OFFENBACH to ASCHAFFENBURG, July 26, 1860.

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THE NINE MAIDENS OF CRACOW.

Once upon a time in Cracow, ,
I 've heard say and do believe it,
On a sultry day in summer,
Sad and serious sat nine maidens.

Doing nothing, saying nothing,
Lack-a-daisy sat the maidens
In a honeysuckle arbour,
All the livelong July forenoon.

What are they about, those maidens, All nine sitting with eyes downcast, Folded hands and mouths half open? Read me, if thou canst, the riddle.

Ah! there 's not one of those maidens, Of the whole nine, has a sweetheart; Where 's the wonder they look dismal, Now and then cry, heigh-ho, heigh-ho?

"In the wood a tall oak 's growing,"
Sighing said one of the maidens,
“Underneath its spreading branches,
When I 'm dead, let me be buried."

“There let me be laid beside thee,"
Said another of the maidens,
“In the shadow of the same oak;
Of this wicked world I 'm weary.”

“When this poor heart throbs no longer,
I will there be laid between ye,
In that sáme oak’s spreading shadow,”
Said another of the maidens.

“There we 'll all be laid together,"
Cried with one voice all the maidens,
“Come, let 's go and lay our graves out,
Round that oak’s trunk, in a circle.”

So into the wood, the maidens,
Arm in arm, went, sad and sighing,
And the oak found, and the grass cut
That about its trunk was growing;

But while some the grass were cutting,
And some bringing stones and crosses,
Lisette, who by chance had looked up,
Saw the tree with young men swarming,

And shrieked loud. All stopped and looked up,
Every heart began to flutter;
When a soft voice from the tree cried:
“Sweetest maidens, we are coming.”

In an instant round Lisetta's
Waist was clasped a strong and kind arm;
In an instant Gretchen's cheek was
Glowing red with Julius' kisses;

Theodor was on his knee to
Lovely Judith with the fáir hair;
While from Hermann's grasp Louisa
Faintly strove to draw her fingers;

Lottchen runs, but, out of breath soon,
Is by nimble Hans o'ertaken,
And made to sit down beside him,
Will-she nill-she, on the green bank;

Magdalena artless maiden!
Fears that Hilpert may his neck break
As he slips down from a high branch,
And holds out her hand to help him;

Hilpert on the helping hand a
Bright gold ring puts could you blame him?
Magdalena didn't she do right?
Let the ring bide where he put it.

"Stay! for God's sake stay,” cried Ellen,
“Till I go and fetch a ladder"
But, before the word was finished,
Max stood hand in hand with Ellen.

Robert still was in the tree, and
Engelbert, a cat's sleep sleeping,
Neither Rosamond nor Minna
How to hollo knew, or whistle;

So they gathered up shed acorns,
And with both hands so the twó youths
Peppered that they quickly wakened
Out of their feigned sleep and came down,

And surrendered on so fair terms
That not one of the nine maidens,
Unless it were Rosamunda,
Half so happy was as Minna.

Once upon a time in Cracow,
I 've heard say and do believe it,
In a honeysuckle arbour,
With their sweethearts sat nine maidens;

Merrier never met nine maidens,
Than the nine met, that same evening,
In the honeysuckle arbour,
Every one linked with her good man;

And the talk was all of roses,
Wedding feasts, and rings and posies,
And where best they would live, and thrive most;
Not one word, where they'd be buried.

And the traveller 's, to this dáy, shown,
As through Cracow wood he passes,
The decayed trunk of that old oak,
And hears tell of the nine maidens.

Begun walking from KÖNIGSWART to EINSIEDL, Aug. 14; finished at Neu

STADL near Plass, BOHEMIA, Aug. 16, 1860.

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