The Two Lovers
(FRAGMENT)
The wild wind bloweth ever,
The tree's high branches shaking.
His letter cometh never —
And ah, my heart is breaking!
O cruel wind, ever teasing!
The man I'll soon be hating
Keeps writing without ceasing —
How long my heart is waiting!
The wild wind bloweth ever,
The tree's high branches shaking.
His letter cometh never —
And ah, my heart is breaking!
O cruel wind, ever teasing!
The man I'll soon be hating
Keeps writing without ceasing —
How long my heart is waiting!
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