Little Gray Songs from St. Joseph's - Part 38
This morn I cried: “Now I will live,
For Spring comes striding through the land,
With branch and blossom in her hand,
And all dear gifts that she doth give.”
This morn I cried: “Now I will live!”
Alas, the frail bright blossoms fall,
And though the Spring have gifts for all,
My gift of life she doth not give.
For Spring comes striding through the land,
With branch and blossom in her hand,
And all dear gifts that she doth give.”
This morn I cried: “Now I will live!”
Alas, the frail bright blossoms fall,
And though the Spring have gifts for all,
My gift of life she doth not give.
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