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Show A Hundred Years From Now. A hundred years from now, dear hcail Wo will not care nt all; If will not matter then a whit Tho honey or the gall. Tho summer days that wo hnve known Will all forgotten bo and flown; Tho garden will bo overgrown Whero now the roses fall. A hundred years from now, fond heart. We'll neither lenow nor care, What came of all life's bitterness Or followed love's despair. , When all these years havo flown, sweetheart, sweet-heart, Tho grief will all bo o'er; Tho sea of care will surge in vain Upon tho careless shore. A hundred years from now, sweetheart, Wo will not mind the pain; Tho throbbing crimson tide of life Will not havo left a stain. This song wo sing together, dear, Will mean no more than means a tear, Lot's build one cnstlo more in fapain, And ono moro dream dream here. Lambert Norman Jackson. |