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Why should I sing when every living voice
Carols in joy for my love's holiday?
Why should I laugh when all the skies rejoice,
Blue-girt and silvered in each sun-kissed ray?
Yea, though the skies, the earth, each God-sent thing,
In flowering field, or glen, or deep-set moor,
Croon softly each to each, still shall I sing,
Tho weak the chords or be the accents poor.
These shall I bring for my love's golden fare,
These shall I give as down my days she trips—
Song-burthened zephyrs for her wind-blown hair,
Garlands of laughter for her crimson lips,
Laughter or song, 'tis but love's joyous fee,
Deep from the treasure of my heart to thee.
Carols in joy for my love's holiday?
Why should I laugh when all the skies rejoice,
Blue-girt and silvered in each sun-kissed ray?
Yea, though the skies, the earth, each God-sent thing,
In flowering field, or glen, or deep-set moor,
Croon softly each to each, still shall I sing,
Tho weak the chords or be the accents poor.
These shall I bring for my love's golden fare,
These shall I give as down my days she trips—
Song-burthened zephyrs for her wind-blown hair,
Garlands of laughter for her crimson lips,
Laughter or song, 'tis but love's joyous fee,
Deep from the treasure of my heart to thee.
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