The morrow was a bright September morn;The earth was beautiful as if new-born;There was that nameless splendor everywhereThat wild exhilaration in the air. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807–82)
The morrow was a bright September morn;The earth was beautiful as if new-born;There was that nameless splendor everywhereThat wild exhilaration in the air.
When you fail at love…it’s hard to keep your heart going To have faith again…in all the right things and be sure What is right and why do I fail?
When you fail at love…it’s hard to keep your heart going
To have faith again…in all the right things and be sure
What is right and why do I fail?
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