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Phyllis, ah, Phyllis, my life is a gray day, Few are my years, but my griefs are not few, Ever to youth should each day be a May-day, Warm wind and rose-breath and diamonded dew— Phyllis, ah, Phyllis, my life is a gray day. Oh for the sunlight that shines on a May-day! Only the cloud hangeth over my life. Love that should bring me youth's happiest heyday Brings me but seasons of sorrow and strife; Phyllis, ah, Phyllis, my life is a gray day. Sunshine or shadow, or gold day or gray day, Life must be lived as our destinies rule; Leisure or labor or work day or play day— Feasts for the famous and fun for the fool; Phyllis, ah, Phyllis, my life is a gray day. |