A Thousand thoughts of tender vague regret
A thousand thoughts of tender vague regret
Crowd on my soul, what time I stand and gaze
On the soft-shining autumn moon;—and yet
Not to me only speaks her silv'ry haze.
Crowd on my soul, what time I stand and gaze
On the soft-shining autumn moon;—and yet
Not to me only speaks her silv'ry haze.
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