Luyện nghe bài hát Ballade at Thirty-Five

This, no of ingenue
This, no of innocence
This, the of a lady who
Followed her natural bents

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

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

Decked in garments of hue
Daubed with ashes of myriad
shower bouquets of rue
Walk I ever in

Oft I roam, as my repents
Through God's acres of
stones in my reverence
I loved them 'til loved me

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

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

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

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

Princes, I'd give offense
you think of me tenderly?
You're my strength and my weakness,

This, no of ingenue
This, no ballad of
This, the of a lady who