Rose and Nightingale (pieces)
Through gloom and mist of death,
at dawn the Nightingale rises from his corpse,
and, like a dream he would dream again,
he sings,
to each, to all,
to the rose on the grave,
the bittersweet love song he met by chance yet learnt by choice.
For one thing he holds dear as faith ,
that love shall prevail.
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