| I bring no prayers on coloured silk |
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| The Village of my youth is gone |
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| See, how the wind of autumn drives |
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| My sleeve is wet with floods of tears |
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| Unfit to rule this wicked world |
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| I wandered forth this moonlight night |
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| The Fishing-boats are tossed about |
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| I hear thou art as modest as |
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| Be not displeased, but pardon me |
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| How difficult it is for men |
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