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O'er the strange paths night is brooding,
Heart is sick, and limbs are sore,
Then thy light in silent blessing,
Gentle Moon, streams down once more.
Gentle Moon, before thy radiance
Vanish all the night-tide's fears;
Silently my griefs steal from me,
And my eyes are dewed with tears.
Heart is sick, and limbs are sore,
Then thy light in silent blessing,
Gentle Moon, streams down once more.
Gentle Moon, before thy radiance
Vanish all the night-tide's fears;
Silently my griefs steal from me,
And my eyes are dewed with tears.
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