Alexander Mackenzie
2 voix · Voice, Piano
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The rose that in the Springtide ventures forth To woo the Zephyr with her crimson smiles And odorous wiles Too often chances on the cruel north; For every kiss of his cold lips With poisonous blight her beauty nips, Till, one by one, with downcast head, She weeps away her petals red. And with the last bereft of life and light Sighs forth her passionate soul on the dark lap of night.
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