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The Song Maker1
I made a hundred little songsThat told the joy and pain of love, And sang them blithely2, tho' I knewNo whit3 thereof. I was a weaver4 deaf and blind;A miracle was wrought5 for me, But I have lost my skill to weaveSince I can see. For while I sang —— ah swift and strange!Love passed and touched me on the brow, And I who made so many songsAm silent now. 点击收听单词发音
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