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Beneath the Shadows

Beneath the shadows of an old oak tree
There lays a place of memory;
By forest shapes and swaying shades,
Where all to stillness swiftly fades;
Where tender whispers fill red skies,
Bringing mist to thoughtful eyes.

Oh come, sweet girl, run away with me
From the dimming sounds of the strange city,
To the place where lifetimes swiftly pass
Neath oaken leaves and windswept grass;
We’ll catch the sunlight’s final beams
And fade away to wondrous dreams.

And there we’ll learn those mystic arts
Which mesmerize entwining hearts,
As sleepy stars come out to shine,
To wonder at what’s yours and mine;
And all the seasons of life and change,
We’ll watch and laugh and rearrange…

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