| Walking in my mourning in the morning
|
| Let me tell you of the ashes of the great
|
| Sun is for dawning, let the dawn in
|
| Let me lift my heart and free my song from pain
|
| To the song, to the song of Wandering Aengus
|
| People talk of rain, now for the pain
|
| Now in the swing of all the people at the gate
|
| Call of men-folks down in the woods, bow down to Cyprus
|
| In the hazel wood and wave
|
| For the song, for the song of Wandering Aengus
|
| To step amidst the ferns who gently learn
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| To whisper solitude to sunlight through the breaks
|
| I have seen your name writ through the clothes
|
| Knit swelling in the fire I made last night
|
| With the song, with the song of Wandering Aengus
|
| With the song, with the song of Wandering Aengus
|
| Walking in my mourning in the morning
|
| Let me tell you of the ashes of the great
|
| Sun is for dawning, let the dawn in
|
| Let me lift my heart and free my song from pain
|
| To the song, to the song of Wandering Aengus
|
| To the song, to the song of Wandering Aengus |