O Word I Love to Sing
O word I love to sing! thou art too tender For all the passions agitating me; For all my bitterness thou art too tender, I cannot pour my red soul into thee. O haunting melody! thou art too slender, Too fragile like a globe of crystal glass; For all my stormy thoughts thou art too slender, The burden from my bosom will not pass. O tender word! O melody so slender! O tears of passion saturate with brine, O words, unwilling words, ye can not render My hatred for the foe of me and mine.
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