(Traditional) The Golden Day is dying beyond the purple hill The Golden Day is dying beyond the purple hill And when the wood is dark yes the nightingale will sing And when the wood is dark yes the nightingale will sing And soon beyond the meadow the silver moon will swing And soon beyond the meadow the silver moon will swing The Lark that sang at noon day end dusk the wood is still The Lark that sang at noon day end dusk the wood is still
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