On Melancholy के बोल

In ancient times, her self was but a breeze, Blowing softly on fields of vivid green, The rustling leaves would dance and twirl and fade, While in the woods I wandered by her shade. The moon would pour herself as in a stream, Casting many a shadow with her gleam. Eternity was hers within that glade, While in the woods I wandered by her shade. While in the woods I wandered by her shade, Myself I found outcast from my old state, I bade adieu and softly embraced my fate, While in the woods I wandered by her shade.