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THE ORCHESTRA.

(FROM THE GERMAN.)

The world is but a huge Orchestra,

And we therein must Players be, And she who stirs our human feelings

Is our sweet sister, Harmony. The great men, standing high above us,

Shall the Conductor's part fulfil, While we, poor devils, scrape and fiddle

As best we can, some well, some ill.

The poor man's Tempo is Andante,

Allegro suits the rich man well, And in the great man's Maestoso

Our piping notes the music swell. But many a one doth vainly fiddle,

Nor clear nor tunefully plays he, And therefore must for life, contented,

A humble bellows-blower be,

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