-
forth mine hand
almost all the day long, and the end
draweth nigh. And it
grieveth me that I
should hew down all the
trees of my vineyard, and cast them into...
- sigh, Beloved, for thy pity, My love is
never thee nearer, And that me
grieveth sore;
Sweet loved-one,
think on me, I have
loved thee long.
Sweet loved-one...
