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Utrechtsche studenten almanak voor ..., 1856, 1856

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O Angelina, loveliest maid!

Why weep you, o, teil me why?

And whenee those glistening, dewy tears

Which drop from thy mild, blue eye?

Tour heart seems broken, and sadly hurt;

O, teil me, and why so pale?

Such grief becomes not a virgin’s cheek.

Disclose the saddening tale.

The pretty lilies, that deck the mead

In snowwhite brilliancy,

The blooming roses, so fresh and fair.

Look smilingly up to thee.

The feathered songsters warble still,

So merrily on the trees,

The thrilling notes, from their little throats.

Are wafted along on the breeze.