Luyện nghe bài hát A Kinder Eye

In his widowed years of longing, in his room of light
He lay the oil upon the canvas, brought sweet to life
His speckled a brush of color
His spotted hands both and speed
I was the boy who came evening to sweep his floors and bring his tea

To the world he was the master, his landscapes the gallery halls
But now he painted portraits, unframed upon his private walls
Subjects sitting-walking-laughing in flight or soft refrain
A forms and colors but every face the same

Across the the moving hand of history bleeds
(Across the ages)
For a kinder eye to see us, not as we are but as we

A night when I arrived there, he looked so tired and near the end
And as I cleaned his and brushes, I wished out loud to be like him
He said that art was only longing, trying to do what be done
And though he'd signed a paintings, still he'd never finished one

As I finished up my sweeping, in his sleep he spoke her
I looked again at all the portraits, each and every face the
Not as she was in pain or sorrow but in beauty seen
As she served his noble

Across the page the moving hand of bleeds
(Across the ages)
For a eye to see us, not as we are but as we dream