S git öppis, s isch finer
As s allerfinschti Gwäb,
Und doch isch es stercher
As isigi Stäb.
S isch früscher as s Bluescht, wo am Öpfelbaum stoht,
Wie Schnee uf de Bärge, wo nümme vergoht,
Bald bitter wie Galle,
Bald süesser as Hung,
S läbt mängs hundert Johr und blibt allewil jung,
S isch höcher as d Stärne
Und teufer as s Meer:
Was müesst mer au afoh, wenn d Liebi nid wer!

Sophie Haemmerli-Marti
S git öppis, s isch finer As s allerfinschti Gwäb, Und doch isch es stercher… - Sophie Haemmerli-Marti Gedichte
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