100
Gak gsau tu cestičku.
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Our footsteps have trod o'er
The path of the mountain,
The messengers rode o'er;
Rapidly, rapidly on:
They brought from my maiden
A message of sweetness:
They brought it in fleetness,
From her I won.
From morning's first waking,
To slumbers of even,
Till frown'd the arch'd heaven,
Mantled in cloudiest gloom;
