The Songs of Life
Quote not the songs we hear retold,
Quote not the passing of time;
Quote not a verse of sound nor voice
When they are lost in the winds of change
For when shall a flower in brilliant red
Begin to wither and die?
Its fallen leaves plucked by god
Then blown away as the seasons change
Softly shines upon the hills and dales
The suns sweet morning fair,
In a new day is left those sunlit rays
To the birth of another day
We sense the words, to this song of life
When nothing is left, but the passing of time,
No verse of sound, no tone of voice
Are blessed by the winds of change
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