Nightingale
O! could my sweet plaint lull to rest,
Soften one sigh—as thou dreamst,
I'd sit the whole night on thy tree,
And sing,——sing,——
With the thorn at my breast.
Soften one sigh—as thou dreamst,
I'd sit the whole night on thy tree,
And sing,——sing,——
With the thorn at my breast.
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