What troublest thou, my Little Lash
My sweetest song, I present before you,
Still you are sad when happy is the mass.
Can't you notice the Lobelia hath made the sky blue?
I'll lull you to sleep with the finest lullaby,
For the world, you know, is flummoxed with the songs of mine,
What art thou doing in the lone balcony,
When the lenient cold is growing to the apex of the pine.
If thou hath any pain hidden, disclose it to me,
My divine song would scour the pain
thats hidden in the bosoom
or shall I present before thee a fancy Lei,
Made from the rose, gladious & the Lilly,
that would make your smile blossom.
All's worthless my sweet Nightingale,
The molodorous smell of my Lost Love,
Makeths me sleepless all these nights, quothed the sylph with a tangle.
And this blood-curdling reason she gave for her heart's lumbago.
Lo!! Tears rolled down the nightingale's burid eyes lurid eyes,
What effect the tale hath on the most melodious of birds??
never again was it seen by her window's base,
The damsel's anguish to express, I too have no words......
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