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Má zlatá stezičko uzaučká.
Ye sweet, sad scenes! so dark, so dear,
So lovely once—so hateful now—
O why, while wandering, wandering here,
Do grief and gloom my spirits bow?
I totter o'er that narrow way,
Where erst I tripp'd so lightly on;
My lover's steed was wont to stray,
In these green fields—but he is gone.
With what intensity of bliss,
I hail'd the smiling earth and sky;
Scenes! that were then all blessedness,
Why turn'd to desolation? why?
The flowers have droop'd—the light is fled;
The fruit hath fallen from the tree;
The wreath I wrought to bind his head,
The stream hath wafted to the sea.