Said he to himself in dreamy contemplation of the long journey
ahead of him: "I will traverse the great highways that my mother trod
and I will look for the Golden Girl sitting by the wayside. She must
be there, and though it is a wide world, I am young and my eyes are
sharp. I will find her sitting at the roadside eager for me to come,
not housed in a gloomy; castle surrounded by the spooks of a hundred
ancestors. They who live in castles wed to hate and they who wed at
the roadside live to love. Fortune attend me! If love lies at the
roadside waiting, do not let me pass it by. All the princesses are
not inside the castles. Some sit outside the gates and laugh with
glee, for love is their companion. So away I go, la, la! looking for
the princess with the happy heart and the smiling lips! It is a wide
world but my eyes are sharp. I shall find my princess."
But, alas, for his fine young dream, he found no Golden Girl at the
roadside nor anything that suggested romance. There were happy hearts
and smiling lips--and all for him, it would appear--but he passed
them by, for his eyes were _sharp_ and his wits awake.
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