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 fatal九*九*藏*書ly

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 srｅａd•99ｃｓw.ｃｏｍhall die.

I HAVE been in the meadows all the day

Back straightway to the fields and gather more ?

And gathered there the no九*九*藏*書segay that you see

Singing within myself as bird or bee

My heart is very tired, my strength is low,