The Scott
to the gate, si
that has r
e fragra
g to a va
to me m
night a hon
re the wi
lover lea
t's all
I to do with
put in hiding
n my way to
my-Ah! last nig
must not
the
was
whose lover th
w him until
o my soul. I
life my lover
into an inn I
rough a wind
ur'd with thi
last night wit
worn it. Why s
t in love? For
how to love,
wn to death. B
mine, and arm
s with its dear w
ve! O me, ho
as numb as th
idst thou forge
ody and soul?
not gone
olk a
the light with a
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