| I gave her eyes my own to take
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| And round she turned my sake
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| My hands in need
|
| And gave herself indeed
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| I met a girl down in the meads
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| A fading rose was on her cheeks
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| Her honey eyes were dreaming wild
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| Full beautiful, a fairy-child
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| And on the floor she’s all alone
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| I sit upon this cold, grey stone
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| And I dream my time away
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| Yet conversing as I may
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| And the stars through the spears
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| My heart waters full of tears
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| Run in blood down the wall
|
| For another give You ease
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| Do You know who made You
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| You are called by what You do
|
| Into spheres, spheres we see
|
| Joy reduced to misery
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| I fell my strength to fade
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| Almost asleep, my only sake
|
| She spoke the word, used the clue
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| «I love You true…»
|
| And the fields, black and bare
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| The eternal winter’s there
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| Fed with cold, fearless hands
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| In a rich and fruitful land
|
| And the sun does never shine
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| Joy another loss of mine
|
| In what distant deeps or skies
|
| Burned the fire of Your eyes
|
| — fire —
|
| Never end… |