A pity beyond all telling

Is hid in the heart of love:

The folk who are buying and selling The clouds on their journey above

The cold wet winds ever blowing

And the shadowy hazel grove

Where mouse-grey waters are flowing Threaten the head that I love LkMqjhebhbNgCEm13uMtRSHbtQqD0WdTZxF6EYbw2OjtQvqMxGtlA9VZSozh3tfq