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A lover's diary | ||
112
[IV. The violets, O the violets]
The violets, O the violets!
They are dripping with the dew,
The lark is singing in the sky,
And the sky is bright and blue;
But my heart is aching, aching,—
Aching through and through!
They are dripping with the dew,
The lark is singing in the sky,
And the sky is bright and blue;
But my heart is aching, aching,—
Aching through and through!
The daisies, O the daisies!
They are round and fair of face,
And the daffodil has bribed the sun
To lie in her embrace;
But my heart is crying, dying
Like a soul that lacketh grace!
They are round and fair of face,
And the daffodil has bribed the sun
To lie in her embrace;
But my heart is crying, dying
Like a soul that lacketh grace!
113
The roses, O the roses!
They have pledged and plighted faith
To the winds that kiss and kiss them
Till they faint and fail for breath;
But my heart is bleeding, bleeding,—
Bleeding slowly into death!
They have pledged and plighted faith
To the winds that kiss and kiss them
Till they faint and fail for breath;
But my heart is bleeding, bleeding,—
Bleeding slowly into death!
A lover's diary | ||