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f. Gezinsleven. 74. John Anderson, my Jo.

1. John Anderson, my jo, John, When we were first acquent, Your locks were like the raven, Your bonnie brow was brent;

But now your brow is bjSlerfXohn, öoJL Your locks are like the snaw, But blessings on your frosty pow, John Anderson, my jo.

2. John Anderson, my jo, John, We clamb the hill thegither, And mony a canty day, John, We 've had with ane anither; Now we maun totter down, John, But hand in hand we '11 go, And sleep thegither at the foot, John Anderson, my jo.


75. Das sterbende Kind.

Wie doch so still dir am Herzen Ruhet das Kind!

Weiss nicht, wie Mutterschmerzen So herbe sind.

Auf Stirn und Lippen und Wangen

Ist schon vergangen

Das süsse Roth;

Und dennoch, heimlicherweise,

Lach el t es leise —


KUsset der Tod.


76. My sister's sleep.

She feil asleep on Christmas Eve; At length the long ungranted shade Of weary eyelids overweighed The pain nought else might yet relieve.