 | Rivers to the Sea |  |
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Stresa
The moon grows out of the hills
A yellow flower,
The lake is a dreamy bride Who waits her hour.
The lake is a dreamy bride Who waits her hour.
Beauty has filled my heart,
It can hold no more,
It is full, as the lake is full, From shore to shore.
It is full, as the lake is full, From shore to shore.
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| Rivers to the Sea | |