Once through the forest
Alone I went;
To seek for nothing
My thoughts were bent.

I saw in the shadows
A flower bloom there
Like stars it glittered,
like eyes it was fair.

I sought to pluck it,
When gently it said:
"Shall I be gathered
Only to fade?"

Digging it out with all its roots
I handled it with care,
And took it home
Into my garden fair.

In a quiet corner
Soon it was set;
There grows it ever,
There blooms it yet.

— Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

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