The Wedding.

A poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

A Feast was in a village spread,
It was a wedding-day, they said.
The parlour of the inn I found,
And saw the couples whirling round,
Each lass attended by her lad,
And all seem'd loving, blithe, and glad;
But on my asking for the bride,
A fellow with a stare, replied:
"'Tis not the place that point to raise!

We're only dancing in her honour;
We now have danced three nights and days,

And not bestowed one thought upon her."


* * * *

Whoe'er in life employs his eyes
Such cases oft will recognise.

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