Drowsy silence and only sorrowful Wind, singing its songs... just the rustling of sand, its quiet whisper Low voice of old the Past. Half-demolished and
despair you appealing for heaven's sake But They don't hear the prayer and she will never wake. He thought, his art, far above the death And the painter
Amid of the guests was the finest maid. With the sparkling eyes and light flush on her face. The princess-dream from concealed Dreamland And spellbound
poor; They tear the poor man's lamb, and drive They needy from their door... Mordred the giant roused himself From sleeping in his cave; He shook the hills, and
it, don't hear. Once upon a time there lived King, who was a true madcap He would often be so clowned All the neighbours almost split Their spides with laughter. And