In whispers, Dear, You left, saying,
You'll be coming here again.
Quoth I, when singing songs aplenty,
Night of gloom will be surpassed.
Many an age has transpired since then;
Many stars have detached from the heavens.
Many reddish leaves, matured they have fallen;
Your arrival, oh when will it happen?
Having promised, why do You renege?
Can't You hear the heart's distress?
Any reasoning or logic You present,
It won't manage to make me forget.
You'll be coming here again.
Quoth I, when singing songs aplenty,
Night of gloom will be surpassed.
Many an age has transpired since then;
Many stars have detached from the heavens.
Many reddish leaves, matured they have fallen;
Your arrival, oh when will it happen?
Having promised, why do You renege?
Can't You hear the heart's distress?
Any reasoning or logic You present,
It won't manage to make me forget.
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I was mistaken: Songs are not a sufficient substitute. So please don't welsh, but keep Your pledge.
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