The years have wandered slow with me,
through fields of distant feeling,
and blossomed days of fantasy,
which weave like thread around,
the gentled deep forgetting,
of shining nights and dimming days,
of darkened morning, brightened dusk;
cast carelessly across dark heavens,
as glittered, precious moments.
through fields of distant feeling,
and blossomed days of fantasy,
which weave like thread around,
the gentled deep forgetting,
of shining nights and dimming days,
of darkened morning, brightened dusk;
cast carelessly across dark heavens,
as glittered, precious moments.
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