Lyrics Alms - Luciana Souza
                                                My 
                                                heart 
                                                is 
                                                what 
                                                it 
                                                was 
                                                before,
 
                                    
                                
                                                    A 
                                                house 
                                                where 
                                                people 
                                                come 
                                                and 
                                                go;
 
                                    
                                
                                                But 
                                                it 
                                                is 
                                                winter 
                                                with 
                                                your 
                                                love,
 
                                    
                                
                                                The 
                                                sashes 
                                                are 
                                                beset 
                                                with 
                                                snow.
 
                                    
                                
                                                    I 
                                                light 
                                                the 
                                                lamp 
                                                and 
                                                lay 
                                                the 
                                                cloth,
 
                                    
                                
                                                    I 
                                                blow 
                                                the 
                                                coals 
                                                to 
                                                blaze 
                                                again;
 
                                    
                                
                                                But 
                                                it 
                                                is 
                                                winter 
                                                with 
                                                your 
                                                love,
 
                                    
                                
                                                The 
                                                frost 
                                                is 
                                                thick 
                                                upon 
                                                the 
                                                pane.
 
                                    
                                
                                                    I 
                                                know 
                                                    a 
                                                winter 
                                                when 
                                                it 
                                                comes:
 
                                    
                                
                                                The 
                                                leaves 
                                                are 
                                                listless 
                                                on 
                                                the 
                                                boughs;
 
                                    
                                
                                                    I 
                                                watched 
                                                your 
                                                love 
                                                    a 
                                                little 
                                                while,
 
                                    
                                
                                                And 
                                                brought 
                                                my 
                                                plants 
                                                into 
                                                the 
                                                house.
 
                                    
                                
                                                    I 
                                                water 
                                                them 
                                                and 
                                                turn 
                                                them 
                                                south,
 
                                    
                                
                                                    I 
                                                snap 
                                                the 
                                                dead 
                                                brown 
                                                from 
                                                the 
                                                stem;
 
                                    
                                
                                                But 
                                                it 
                                                is 
                                                winter 
                                                with 
                                                your 
                                                love,—
 
                                    
                                
                                                    I 
                                                only 
                                                tend 
                                                and 
                                                water 
                                                them.
 
                                    
                                
                                                There 
                                                was 
                                                    a 
                                                time 
                                                    I 
                                                stood 
                                                and 
                                                watched
 
                                    
                                
                                                The 
                                                small, 
                                                ill-natured 
                                                sparrows' 
                                                fray;
 
                                    
                                
                                                    I 
                                                loved 
                                                the 
                                                beggar 
                                                that 
                                                    I 
                                                fed,
 
                                    
                                
                                                    I 
                                                cared 
                                                for 
                                                what 
                                                he 
                                                had 
                                                to 
                                                say,
 
                                    
                                
                                                    I 
                                                stood 
                                                and 
                                                watched 
                                                him 
                                                out 
                                                of 
                                                sight;
 
                                    
                                
                                                Today 
                                                    I 
                                                reach 
                                                around 
                                                the 
                                                door
 
                                    
                                
                                                And 
                                                set 
                                                    a 
                                                bowl 
                                                upon 
                                                the 
                                                step;
 
                                    
                                
                                                My 
                                                heart 
                                                is 
                                                what 
                                                it 
                                                was 
                                                before,
 
                                    
                                
                                                But 
                                                it 
                                                is 
                                                winter 
                                                with 
                                                your 
                                                love;
 
                                    
                                
                                                    I 
                                                scatter 
                                                crumbs 
                                                upon 
                                                the 
                                                sill,
 
                                    
                                
                                                And 
                                                close 
                                                the 
                                                window,—and 
                                                the 
                                                birds
 
                                    
                                
                                                May 
                                                take 
                                                or 
                                                leave 
                                                them, 
                                                as 
                                                they 
                                                will.
 
                                    
                                 
                            1 These Things
2 Daybreak
3 Alms
4 Night Song
5 Paris
6 The Book
7 Tonight
8 We Grow Accustomed to the Dark
9 A Life
10 Remember
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                ![Исполнитель Luciana Souza, альбом Twenty-Four Short Musical Episodes (with first lines from poems by Emily Dickinson) [Recorded live at Shalin Liu Performance Center, Rockport, MA on September 23rd, 2023] [Live]](https://pic.Lyrhub.com/img/3/o/t/h/_48zlwhto3.jpg) 
                                                         
                                                         
                                                         
                                                         
                                                         
                                                         
                                                        