Words for a Song
" Through all these days and all these weeks,
So often you have kissed my cheeks,
I sometimes think they must have grown
To silver, gold, and precious stone."
" O, cheeks of silver and of gold,
My dearest, would be hard and cold,
I would not kiss them, even so,
To say Good-night, before I go."
So often you have kissed my cheeks,
I sometimes think they must have grown
To silver, gold, and precious stone."
" O, cheeks of silver and of gold,
My dearest, would be hard and cold,
I would not kiss them, even so,
To say Good-night, before I go."
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