  I weave my verses of smiles and tears, Gathered and shed for you, I bind them up in the hopes of years, Dear, will you read them through? I write my ballads of joy and pain, Cast at your heedless feet, I set the words to a lost refrain, Sing it but once, my Sweet! I breathe my life into rhyme and song, What shall I gain thereby? The verse is poor, and the tune is wrong, |
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