Winter Wings are for loving hearts,
They are the gifts each soul imparts.
Demands not made, no questions asked,
For each this soul the dream was cast.
Two hearts in unison from the start
Two hearts in unison from the start
Dream shall be a work of art
Attached in love, by a single dart
Winter wings . . .
Whatever pulled this dream apart,
And from your heart removed a tiny dart . . .
Demands not made, no questions asked?
For this soul that dream did not last.
Two hearts in unison from the start.
Winter wings . . .
The earliest French Ballads were written by the traveling Troubadours and varied in syllable was count from ten to twelve. This count was later adjusted to meet the English standard and count, as twelve syllabled, and fourteen syllabled did not conform easily to English.
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