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LULA IS GONE |
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2 Not a voice awakens the mountains, No gladness returns with the dawn, Not a smile is mirrored in the fountains,
For Lula, sweet Lula is gone. Day is bereft of its pleasures,
Night of its beautiful dreams, While the dirge of well remembered measures [streams.
Is murmured by the ripple on the |
3 When I view the chill-blighted bowers, And roam o'er the snow-covered plain, How I long for spring's budding flowers To welcome her sweet smiles again. Why does the earth seem forsaken?
Time will this sadness remove: At her voice the meadows will awaken To verdure, sweet melody and love, |
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