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 2 It was autumn and very long ago, And drops of rain kept falling slow And a flute-player played on his flute below, From the fields below the town.

And now they have told me so constantly That the place was a city of dreams. That my reason believes it; but in my heart, In my heart most real it seems! And thro' town and country I still must go The shadowy roads along, Seeing always that closed window And hearing that flute-player's song.

And when the sun most rich and dim Sinks down behind dark towers, And there comes a wind from the world's rim And from somewhere a scent of flowers&mdash; I stand again on the bridge of that city And hear that flute-player; And my Love looks down on me in pity, And I look back at her.

&mdash;One look and never the same again Are the roses on the wall; One look and forever the midnight rain With a different sound must fall!