(lyrics are written by from poetry by Lewis Carrol) the night creeps onward.
in these embers' dying glow
the forms of fancy come and go

an island farm where trees grew,
stirred by the breath of morn
-the happy spot where i was born

the picture fades,
in its place in the glow i seem to trace
the shifting semblance of a face
with locks of hair like gold

but the pictures with their light
are changed and gone
and i am left alone with night

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