| Show the albany brening journal I 1 made a little goila one day not over sad of over gay and every bori thereof was fall with praise of one most beautiful to her I 1 it while oer bead the sunset deepened into red behind the hills word son and I 1 0 wi th elitier love made wholly here and so I 1 put it from my heart I 1 said song since hero thou art save at thy bidding it dball be murn thou never more to me and as T lay today to day quit estill beside her grave the hill the little song came back so clear so sweet I 1 think she sent it here I 1 |
