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Rh Come, stray into my heart, you tender little feet, and leave the everlasting print of songs on my dreamland path.

I am like the night to you, little flower.

I can only give you peace and a wakeful silence hidden in the dark.

When in the morning you open your eyes, I shall leave you to a world a-hum with bees, and songful with birds.

My last gift to you will be a tear dropped into the depth of your youth; it will make your smile all the sweeter, and bemist your outlook on the pitiless mirth of day.

Do not stand before my window with those hungry eyes and beg for my secret. It is but a tiny stone of