.Die Krähen schrein
Und ziehen schwirren Flugs zur Stadt.
Bald wird es schnein,
Wohl dem, der jetzt noch - Heimat hat!
Nun stehst du starr,
Schaust rückwärts, ach! wie lange schon!
Was bist du Narr>Vor Winters in die Welt entflohn?
Die Welt - ein Tor>Zu tausend W.
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