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192
POEMS.
A merry ramble over these bright fields,
And thou shalt see what thou hast never seen."
On went the pair, until they reached the bound
Where the great linden stood, set deep in snow,
Up to the lower branches. Here we stop,"
Said Eva, for my mother has my word
That I will go no further than this tree."
Then the snow-maiden laughed; "And what is this?
This fear of the pure snow, the innocent snow,
That never harmed anght living? Thou may'st roam
For leagues beyond this garden, and return
In safety; here the grim wolf never prowls,
And here the eagle of our mountain crags
Preys not in winter. I will show the way
And bring thee safely home. Thy mother, sure,
Counselled thee thus because thou hadst no guide."