Song (I have done) I have done, Put by the lute; Songs and singing soon are over, Soon as airy shades that hover Up above the purple clover-- I have done, put by the lute. Once I sang as early thrushes Sing about the dewy bushes, Now I’m mute; I am like a weary linnet, For my throat has no song in it, I have had my singing minute. I have done, Put by the lute. |
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