Song From Incidental Music by Hjaltalin
Shy thoughts and grave hands do wander as they're kissed.
From furrow to furrow, within the palms of amethyst.
How frail is your tongue, whose sound is gone sere?
Will it cleave a tasteful song?
The means are still unclear.
With shy thoughts and torn wide eyes.
Welladay, welladay!
Can't I beg of you to stay?
Pale lilies in her frail,
dark leaves in my hair.
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