Had I the gift of song
It would be as the sweetest bird in spring.
And I would sing your praises
All the day for all to hear.
Had I the gift of music
It would sound of purist tune.
And I would pluck a song for you,
All the day for all to hear.
Had I the gift with paint or dance
Each stroke and turn would show your grace.
The soul of my art would be your love,
All the day for all to see.
Alas, I have but a gift with words,
But words with eloquence they weep.
And every breath they speak of you,
All the day, for all to hear.
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