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80
SANS SOUCI.
There are fireflies sparkling by myriads,
The fountain wave dances in light;
Hark! the mandolin's first notes are waking,
And soft steps break the sleeping of night.
Then come all the young and the graceful,
Come gay as the lovely should be,
'Tis much in this world's toil and trouble,
To let one midnight pass Sans Souci.
