Song
When the leaves are falling, Dearest,
And you seek the quiet mound
Where I slumber, you will find it
With a wealth of blossoms crowned.
Gather, then, for thy bright tresses
Those that from my heart have sprung;
They're the love-thoughts that I spoke not,
And the songs I left unsung.
And you seek the quiet mound
Where I slumber, you will find it
With a wealth of blossoms crowned.
Gather, then, for thy bright tresses
Those that from my heart have sprung;
They're the love-thoughts that I spoke not,
And the songs I left unsung.
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