The tree we lay under,
The thunder, the thunder
Of my heart, and your wonder,
And our weeping
Now we are old, we are worn, we are weary of sleeping.
There’s an end to all sorrow: there must be an end to our weeping.
Come with me, fly with me, find with me, laughing and leaping-
The tree we lay under,
The thunder, the thunder
Of my heart, and your wonder—
And our weeping.
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