Now the sun is sinking
In the golden west;
Birds and bees and children
All have gone to rest:
And the merry streamlet,
As it runs along,
With a voice of sweetness
Sings its evening song.
Now the sun is sinking
In the golden west;
Birds and bees and children
All have gone to rest:
And the merry streamlet,
As it runs along,
With a voice of sweetness
Sings its evening song.
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