Youth's Progeny
Oh the sad little dreams of the dim yesteryear
Lying cold, still and stark in the dust of their bier,
How the heart hurries back, all the long weary way,
Just to bid them good-night at the close of the day.
Lying cold, still and stark in the dust of their bier,
How the heart hurries back, all the long weary way,
Just to bid them good-night at the close of the day.
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