  The tide falls, and the night falls, And the wind blows in from the sea, And the bell on the bar it calls and calls, And the wild hawk cries from his tree. The late crane calls to his fellows gone In long flight over the sea, And my heart with the crane flies on and on, Seeking its rest and thee O Love, the tide returns to the strand, And the crane flies back oversea, But he brings not my heart from his far-off land, For he brings not thee to me. |
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