Luyện nghe bài hát A Kinder Eye

In his widowed years of longing, in his windowed room of
He lay the oil upon the canvas, brought memory 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 he was the master, his landscapes filled the gallery halls
But now he painted only portraits, unframed his private walls
Subjects sitting-walking-laughing in playful flight or soft
A thousand forms and colors but every the same

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

A winter's night when I arrived there, he looked so and near the end
And as I cleaned his and brushes, I wished out loud to be like him
He said that art was longing, trying to do what can't be done
And though he'd signed a thousand paintings, he'd never finished one

As I finished up my sweeping, in his sleep he her name
I again at all the portraits, each and every face the same
Not as she was in pain or but in timeless beauty seen
As she served his dream

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