The Birds by William Blake
He. Where thou dwellest, in what grove, Tell me Fair One, tell me Love; Where thou thy charming nest dost build, O thou pride of every field! She. Yonder stands a lonely tree, There I live and mourn for thee; Morning drinks my silent tear, And evening winds my sorrow bear.
He. O thou summer's harmony, I have liv'd and mourn'd for thee; Each day I mourn along the wood, And night hath heard my sorrows loud.
She. Dost thou truly long for me? And am I thus sweet to thee? Sorrow now is at an end, O my Lover and my Friend!
He. Come, on wings of joy we'll fly To where my bower hangs on high; Come, and make thy calm retreat Among green leaves and blossoms sweet.
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