Grief's Undertone
Joy-throats dilate in the woods;
The meadows are blithe with their cheer,
But in all the bliss of the singing birds,
One voice I hear.
I listen among the trees;
It sings while the breeze rushes on,
And ever it tells in the moaning seas
Of days that are gone.
The meadows are blithe with their cheer,
But in all the bliss of the singing birds,
One voice I hear.
I listen among the trees;
It sings while the breeze rushes on,
And ever it tells in the moaning seas
Of days that are gone.
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