Du bist die Rose meiner Liebe,
Die Ros´ auf meines Herzens Flur
Es waren andre Blumentriebe
Vorahnung meiner Rose nur.
Es kam der Flor, daß er zerstiebe,
Verschwinden mußte jede Spur,
Daß Raum für meine Rose bliebe,
Die mir zu bleiben ewig schwur.

Friedrich Rückert
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