It was a summer evening,Old Kaspar's work was done,And he before his cottage doorWas sitting in the sun,And by him sported on the greenHis little grandchild Wilhelmine.
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Think'st thou there are no serpents in the worldBut those who slide along the grassy sod,And sting the luckless foot that presses them?There are who in the path of social lifeDo bask their spotted skins in Fortune's sun,And sting the soul.
joanna baillieI saw two clouds at morning,Tinged with the rising sun,And in the dawn they floated on,And mingled into one.I thought that morning cloud was blest,It moved so sweetly to the West.
john gardiner calkins brainard