B L U E

birds

Where thou dwellest, in what grove,           Tell me Fair One, tell me Love;           Where thou thy charming nest dost build,           O thou pride of every field!

Yonder stands a lonely tree,           There I live and mourn for thee;           Morning drinks my silent tear,           And evening winds my sorrow bear.

O thou summer’s harmony,           I have liv’d and mourn’d for thee;           Each day I mourn along the wood,           And night hath heard my sorrows loud.

Dost thou truly long for me?           And am I thus sweet to thee?           Sorrow now is at an end,           O my Lover and my Friend

Come, on wings of joy we’ll fly           To where my bower hangs on high;           Come, and make thy calm retreat,           Among green leaves and blossoms sweet. (The Birds by William Blake)

For my Love

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