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187

SPEAK TO ME.

Speak to me from the stormy sky!
The wind is loud in holt and hill,
It is not kind to be so still:
Speak to me, dearest, lest I die
Speak to me, let me hear or see!
Alas, my life is frail and weak:
Seest thou my faults and wilt not speak?
They are not want of love for thee.