Good luck is the gayest of all gay girls,
Long in one place she will not stay;
Back from your brow she strokes the curls,
Kisses you quick and flies away.
But Madame Bad Luck soberly comes
And stays, - no fancy has she for flitting, -
Snatches of true love-songs she hums,
And sits by your bed, and brings her knitting.
Good And Bad Luck. Translations. After Heine.
John Hay
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