  Unhappy trees, beneath whose graceful branches No lovers walk, no children ever play; Who never hear the sound of girlish laughter, But pass in gloom your silent lives away; I wonder if ye heed me as I press My heart to yours in utter loneliness. I wonder if ye see me as I wander Along the trail no feet but mine e'er tread; I wonder if ye hear me when I murmur The name of one who might as well be dead So far away, so very far is she— I wonder if ye heed and pity me? |
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