The Top of the Morning
My days are strung in amber
Till I am sad again:
My days are full of sunlight
Beyond all sun or rain.
My heart is full of tidings
From every wind that blows;
And I cannot say, ‘Good-day to you,’
But everybody knows!
Till I am sad again:
My days are full of sunlight
Beyond all sun or rain.
My heart is full of tidings
From every wind that blows;
And I cannot say, ‘Good-day to you,’
But everybody knows!
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