And bear away
Whatever thou canst
Call thine own
Thine imagine stamped
Upon this clay
Doth give thee that
But that alone
Take tem o'great eternity
Our little life is but a gust
That bends the brenches of thy tree
And trails it's blossoms in the dust
Take them o'grave and let them lie
Folden upon thy narrow shelves
As garments by the soul laid by
And precious only to ourselves
Take them o'death And bear away Whatever thou canst Call thine own Thine imagine stamped Upon this clay Doth give thee that But that alone Take tem o'great eternity Our little life is but a gust That bends the brenches of thy tree And trails it's blossoms in the dust Take them o'grave and let them lie Folden upon thy narrow shelves As garments by the soul laid by And precious only to ourselves Explain Request ×
Lyrics taken from
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