My hands are full of blossoms plucked before,

Sweet counsellors, dear friends ? that I should go

Another, sooth, 九*九*藏*書may do it, but not I !

To come instead of songs. What do you say,

Has met them in my hands more f九-九-藏-書atally

But, now I look upon my flowers, decay

Because more warmly clasped,--and sobs are free

When such do fihｔｔps://ｒeａd•9９cｓｗ.ｃｏｍeld-work on a morn of May.

Held dead within them till myself sha九九藏書ll die.

I HAVE been in the meadows all the day

Back straightway to the fields and gather more ?

And gathered there the noseg九九藏書ay that you see

Singing within myself as bird or bee

My heart is very tired, my strength is low,