Luyện nghe bài hát Ballade at Thirty-Five

This, no song of
This, no ballad of
This, the rhyme of a who
Followed ever her natural

This, a solo of
This, a chantey of
This, the sum of
I them 'til they loved me

I loved them 'til loved me
I loved them 'til they me

in garments of sable hue
Daubed with ashes of myriad
Wearing bouquets of rue
I ever in penitence

Oft I roam, as my repents
God's acres of memory
Marking in my reverence
I loved them 'til they me

I loved them 'til they me
I loved them 'til they me

Pictures me in long review
Marching of dead events
I was and often true
Ever a prey to

knew I the consequence
Always saw the end would be
We're as nature has us hence
I loved them they loved me

I loved them they loved me
I loved 'til they loved me

Princes, never I'd give
Won't you of me tenderly?
You're my and my weakness, gents

This, no song of
This, no ballad of
This, the rhyme of a who