It is my heart that makes my songs, not I.
O lovely chance, what can I doTo give my gratefulness to you?You rise between myself and meWith a wise persistency;I would have broken body and soul,But by your grace, still I am whole.
The wind is tossing the lilacs, The new leaves laugh in the sun, And the petals fall on the orchard wall, But for me the spring is done. Beneath the apple blossoms I go a wintry way, For love that smiled in April Is false to me in May.
Years go, dreams go, and youth goes too, The world's heart breaks beneath its wars,All things are changed, save in the east,The faithful beauty of the stars.
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