Luyện nghe bài hát Ballade at Thirty-Five

This, no of ingenue
This, no ballad of
This, the of a lady who
Followed her natural bents

This, a of sapience
This, a of sophistry
This, the sum of
I them 'til they loved me

I loved them 'til they me
I them 'til they loved me

Decked in garments of hue
Daubed with ashes of Lents
shower bouquets of rue
Walk I in penitence

Oft I roam, as my repents
Through God's of memory
stones in my reverence
I loved them they loved me

I loved 'til they loved me
I loved them they loved me

Pictures me in long review
Marching columns of dead
I was and often true
Ever a prey to

knew I the consequence
Always saw the end would be
We're as nature has made us
I loved them they loved me

I loved them they loved me
I them 'til they loved me

Princes, I'd give offense
Won't you of me tenderly?
You're my and my weakness, gents

This, no of ingenue
This, no ballad of
This, the rhyme of a who