Een engeltje pist over de VrijMiBo
Come to me when grief is over,
When the tired eyes,
Seek thy cloudy wings to cover
Close their burning skies.
Come to me when tears have dwindled
Into drops of dew,
When the sighs like sobs re-kindled
Are but deep and few.
Hold me like a crooning mother,
Heal me of the smart;
All mine anguish let me smother
In thy brooding heart.
Prettig weekend. En be nice.
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