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THINE.
215
Too many clusters break the vine:
Ich bin dein!
The tree whose strength and life outpour
In one exultant blossom-gush
Must flowerless be forevermore:
We walk this way but once, friend;—hush!
Our feet have left no trodden line:
Ich bin din!
Ich bin dein!
The tree whose strength and life outpour
In one exultant blossom-gush
Must flowerless be forevermore:
We walk this way but once, friend;—hush!
Our feet have left no trodden line:
Ich bin din!
Who heaps his goblet wastes his wine:
Ich bin dein!
The boat is moving from the land;—
I have no chiding and no tears;—
Now give me back my empty hand
To battle with the cruel years,—
Behold, the triumph shall be mine!
Ich bin dein!
Ich bin dein!
The boat is moving from the land;—
I have no chiding and no tears;—
Now give me back my empty hand
To battle with the cruel years,—
Behold, the triumph shall be mine!
Ich bin dein!
![](http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/5/5f/IllPoemsAllenEndC.png/200px-IllPoemsAllenEndC.png)