Beloved
If you part from me my sweet love
and you'll travel another path
I'll be but a misguided dove;
you'll be eating the grapes of wrath.
If you will run away from me
like a rose you'll wither and die;
stay with me to whatever be,
and you'll have no reason to cry.
The minutes and the hours are sweet;
the moon and the stars above are lit;
our sorrows are our joy to greet
the beauty of our blessed life
that lead to the river of grit
in this our world without the strife.
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