Page 54 - Ebook-Rosary

Can this be true

Can this be true or am I tossed by a snare

That findeth it's way from a dreaded nightmare,

A year passeth by without once a gleam

of my adored One, O heart of Love supreme,

Tell me, I pray, have I lived upon this earth,

Under these darkened clouds, weary of my birth;

Ah! Dare I to weep, wet teares refuse to fall,

I cannot speak. Ay my lips are closed to all.

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