How great my grief, my joys how few,
Since first it was my fate to know thee!
- Have the slow years not brought to view
How great my grief, my joys how few,
Nor memory shaped old times anew,
Nor loving-kindness helped to show thee
How great my grief, my joys how few,
Since first it was my fate to know thee?
Will I get my dream job, car, or home?
Each instance of fate hangs upon whim,
Like that of the bluebirds, born to roam.
Will I get my dream job, car, or home?
Amidst the questing, time's often flown,
For chance dwells in a region, very dim.
Will I get my dream job, car or home?
Each instance of fate hangs upon whim.
In the blooming epoch of days,
the unlikely swarms have now come
their colors vibrant in sun rays.
In the blooming epoch of days,
there are no rules when nature plays.
Where on earth are these lovelies from?
In the blooming epoch of days,
the unlikely swarms have now come!
IF but some vengeful god would call to me
From up the sky, and laugh: "Thou suffering thing,
Know that thy sorrow is my ecstasy,
That thy love's loss is my hate's profiting!"
Then would I bear, and clench myself, and die,
Steeled by the sense of ire unmerited;
Half-eased, too, that a Powerfuller than I
Had willed and meted me the tears I shed.
......
Sweet flowers in the library,
there to enrich an eager mind
with tales of lore and mystery.
Sweet flowers in the library,
and dreams abloom are quite pretty
in sunset colors, where light shined!
Sweet flowers in the library,
there to enrich an eager mind.
In the blooming epoch of days,
the unlikely swarms have now come
their colors vibrant in sun rays.
In the blooming epoch of days,
there are no rules when nature plays.
Where on earth are these lovelies from?
In the blooming epoch of days,
the unlikely swarms have now come!
Sweet flowers in the library,
there to enrich an eager mind
with tales of lore and mystery.
Sweet flowers in the library,
and dreams abloom are quite pretty
in sunset colors, where light shined!
Sweet flowers in the library,
there to enrich an eager mind.
Will I get my dream job, car, or home?
Each instance of fate hangs upon whim,
Like that of the bluebirds, born to roam.
Will I get my dream job, car, or home?
Amidst the questing, time's often flown,
For chance dwells in a region, very dim.
Will I get my dream job, car or home?
Each instance of fate hangs upon whim.
Beneath a fervid sun, blooms open,
Black night has wandered into day,
The songs I hear say birds have woken,
Beneath a fervid sun. Blooms open!
Rich hues thrill the sunshine golden;
And all nature comes out to play!
Beneath a fervid sun, blooms open-
Black night has wandered into day.
The rich orange sun is beaming,
We are lost in summer's wild days;
And gardens and parks are teeming.
The rich orange sun is beaming.
The moon is asleep and dreaming.
We are in a sweet redbird phase!
The rich orange sun is beaming.
We are lost in summer's wild days.