't was an eve in late summer, autumn was nigh
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still a warm sun did colour the sky
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The meadows did shine in a strange golden light
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and vales did forth the soft haze of night
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When through the air a voice did resound
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beckoning the shepherd to rise from the ground
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The shepherd:
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'What sweet voice does sing in such a woebegone tone?
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What maiden does wander the heather alone?'
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Bewitched by its tone, he followed her song,
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whilst the sun did descend and the shadows grew long
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In the dim light of dusk, near the sparkling cascade
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on a moss covered stone sat a crying young maid
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The shepherd:
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'Why art thou dreary? What happened to thee?
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What song didst thou sing so woefully?'
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The maiden:
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'Go whither O shepherd! Don't sadden thine heart
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Thou canst not help me - not thou who thou art!
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An old man who's been born in a cradle of wood
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of a tree that at least a hundred years stood,
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cut by a boy who at heart was still pure -
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might be my redeemer if he knew that he could...
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The Shepherd And The Maiden Ghost
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| Empyrium |