.
The river ever running down
Between its grassy bed,
The voices of a thousand birds
That clang above my head,
Shall bring me to a sadder dream
When this sad dream is dead.
Between its grassy bed,
The voices of a thousand birds
That clang above my head,
Shall bring me to a sadder dream
When this sad dream is dead.
A silence falls upon my heart
And hushes all its pain.
I stretch my hands in the long grass
And fall asleep again,
There to lie empty of all love
Like beaten corn of grain.
And hushes all its pain.
I stretch my hands in the long grass
And fall asleep again,
There to lie empty of all love
Like beaten corn of grain.
[Elizabeth Siddal]
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