Oh, it ’s twenty gallant gentlemen
Rode out to hunt the deer,
With mirth upon the silver horn
And gleam upon the spear;
They galloped through the meadow-grass,
They sought the forest’s gloom,
And loudest rang Sir Moven’s laugh,
And lightest tost his plume,
There ’s no delight by day or night
Like hunting...
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Climbing up the hillside beneath the summer stars
I listen to the murmur of the drowsy ebbing sea;
The newly-risen moon has loosed her silver zone
On the undulating waters where the ships are sailing free.O moon, and O stars, and O drowsy summer sea.
Drawing thy tide from the city up the bay,
I know how you will look and what your bounds... -
Honest stradivari made men:
With the gift of love he blest me;
Once, delight, a master played me,
Love awoke when he caressed me!Oh the deep, ecstatic burning!
Oh the secrets low and tender!
Oh the passion and the yearning
At our love’s complete surrender!Heartless men, so long to hide me
With the costly toys you... -
Oh, it ’s twenty gallant gentlemen
Rode out to hunt the deer,
With mirth upon the silver horn
And gleam upon the spear;
They galloped through the meadow-grass,
They sought the forest’s gloom,
And loudest rang Sir Morven’s laugh,
And lightest tost his plume.
There ’s no delight by day or night
Like hunting...