Many a beauteous flower doth spring
From the tears that flood my eyes,
And the nightingale doth sing
In the burthen of my sighs.
If, O child, thou lovest me,
Take these flowerets fair and frail,
And my soul shall waft to thee
Love songs of the nightingale.
Love Song'heine
Eugene Field
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Poem topics: child, flower, spring, soul, love, I love you, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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