Luyện nghe bài hát Mïre

Poem by Raymond, Music by Theatre of
Harken! - teh clouds in dark -
So easing.
Hush! - ye the yew doting;
Its of yore in a mre,
Each like a within its grave;
Wrought for us a yearn of
'Tis not a of bale nor loathe;
and aesthesia are its blisses;
Ne'er hath it exist'd so -
Jostl'd away the drape
That us had o'erhung -
Tempt'd thy shutters to
And thus the hearth;
Thou giv'st to misery all hast: the cold -
With weal embrac'd the sprounting
Like a of heaven in the broad daylight -
This joy subdueth until it waneth,
the drooping winter of stalwart.