:Of the Wand & the Moon: - A Dirge | Текст песни

• Тексты песен
• :Of the Wand & the Moon:
• A Dirge

Me seemes i see the high and stately mountaines,
Transform themselves to lowe dejected vallies:
Me seemes i heare in these ill changed forrests,
The nightingales doo learne of owles their musique:
Me seemes i feele the comfort of the morning
Turnde to the mortall serene of an evening.
Me seemes i see a filthie clowdie evening,
As soon as sunne begins to clime the mountaines:
Me seemes i feele a noysome sent, the morning
When i doo smell the flowers of these vallies:
Me seemes i heare, when i doo heare sweet musique,
The dreadfull cries of murdered men in forrests.


:Of the Wand & the Moon: еще тексты