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Look and List, Love.
LIST, love, oh listen as the breeze
Goes softly floating by,
And to thine ear 'twill sweetly breathe
My young hearths tenderest sigh;
And if that breeze hath passed o'er crushed
And withered flowers, 'twill tell,
In saddened cadence, of the griefs
That in my bosom dwell.
          List, love.

List to the music of the stream,
The far-off waterfall,
And in its low tones thou wilt hear
My spirit's earnest call