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Grotesque fairyland-astray |
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With fine falling snow |
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this myth now melts away |
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Through bloody archways |
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it flows upstreams to see |
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this heartache parching me |
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Burns my gaiety, tahng down it's golden mask |
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My tears ooze away on drifting soil |
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Through peace I stride and flee |
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Your musing thoughts caressed by fear |
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I hear some nightingales, they sing |
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My withered dreams to heal |
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Beauty's rose should never die |
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My grief lies onward, joy behind |
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But nature calls it to be gone |
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So tired with my woe... |
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Stormy gusts of winter's day |
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For restful death I beg |
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Ere that sun doth wake |
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Drown my sins'black memory |
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What freezings have I felt |
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what dark days seen in sleep a kind |
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Mounted on the wind your bareness |
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comes to touch the seals |
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Stormy gusts of winter's day |
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For restful death I beg |
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Ere that sun doth wake |
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Drown my sins' black memory |
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For never resting time leads summer |
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on my heart is slain |
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Withing this would which iron did impress |
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there will a river whispering run |
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The very birds are mute |
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The dread the winter's near |
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Their sings, they wet my eyes |
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Drown my world with weeping earnestly |
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Too hot the eye of heaven shined |
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Anon, the tunnel I will find |
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Praise deep vermilion in the rose |
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What tree or stone doth want a soul? |
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Light, thy picture in my sight |
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It's held within his hands |
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It's grounded in my heart |
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Disguised in bridal veils |
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Morning shadows wear away |
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How many mornings have I seen? |