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    Who'll Buy Gods of Love?

    by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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    OF all the beauteous wares
    Exposed for sale at fairs,
    None will give more delight
    Than those that to your sight
    From distant lands we bring.
    Oh, hark to what we sing!
    These beauteous birds behold,
    They're brought here to be sold.

    And first the big one see,
    So full of roguish glee!
    With light and merry bound
    He leaps upon the ground;
    Then springs up on the bougd,
    We will not praise him now.
    The merry bird behold,--
    He's brought here to be sold.

    And now the small one see!
    A modest look has he,
    And yet he's such apother
    As his big roguish brother.
    'Tis chiefly when all's still
    He loves to show his will.
    The bird so small and bold,--
    He's brought here to be sold.

    Observe this little love,
    This darling turtle dove!
    All maidens are so neat,
    So civil, so discreet
    Let them their charms set loose,
    And turn your love to use;
    The gentle bird behold,--
    She's brought here to be sold.

    Their praises we won't tell;
    They'll stand inspection well.
    They're fond of what is new,--
    And yet, to show they're true,
    Nor seal nor letter's wanted;
    To all have wings been granted.
    The pretty birds behold,--
    Such beauties ne'er were sold!

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