I picked a rustic nosegay lately, / And bore it homewards, musing greatly; / When, heated by my hand, I found / The heads all drooping tow'rd the ground. / I plac'd them in a well-cool'd glass, / And what a wonder came to pass / The heads soon raised themselves once more. / The stalks were blooming as before, / And all were in as good a case / As when they left their native place. / So felt I, when I wond'ring heard / My song to foreign tongues transferr'd. (J. W. GOETHE, A parable)
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