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 :::THE GOLDEN CUP

OVELY with memories surging up, From a fount beneath the years, This light spring day like a golden cup. Holds something deeper than tears.

Misty and tender, beneath, above. The green, green sap flows sweet. And beyond the mountains waits my Love, With daisies at her feet.

Is it I, is it I, whom love has found? No! No! It cannot be! I have lost my sense for such heavenly sound And my ear for such harmony.

Who am I that such liquid and tender mist From the green, green trees should rise? Who am I to be welcomed and healed and kissed By the wonder of such skies?

Not unto me, oh. Lord, not unto me. This lovely and golden day! Take it and scatter it abroad Over the land and sea!

Let it float and flicker, this heaven-sent light, Where the saddest wanderers roam; Till the healing dews fall with the night, And the lost return to their home!