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Sixth Century, A.D.
Tears
High o'er the hill the moon barque steers. The lantern lights depart. Dead springs are stirring in my heart; And there are tears. But
that which makes my grief more deep Is that you know not when I weep.
Sixth Century, A.D.
Tears
High o'er the hill the moon barque steers. The lantern lights depart. Dead springs are stirring in my heart; And there are tears. But
that which makes my grief more deep Is that you know not when I weep.
