.Sonne, weinest jeden Abend
Dir die schonen Augen rot,
Wenn im Meeresspiegel badend
Dich erreicht der fruhe Tod;
Doch erstehst in alter Pracht,
Glorie der dustren Welt,
Du des Morgens neu erwacht,
Wie ein stolzer Siegesheld!
Ach, wie sollte ich da klagen,
Wie, mein.
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