Ah! stir well your fancy, fear not to tell me those deep heart secrets now,look the sun goes down the high hills and by the tree shades we sat,in adored pose;along side the lake we sat,kissed by the winds nigh.
We humans have many ways to complain what burning sunlight gives more than a day's light, until purple moon cures us with her fondling balms,like every pain has a remedy to heal and future to grow.
