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To Octavia Lyrics
When wit, and wine, and friends have met
And laughter crowns the festive hour
In vain I struggle to forget
Still does my heart confess thy power
And fondly turn to thee
Turn to thee
Octavia, I turn to thee
Octavia, do not strive to rob
My heart, of all that soothes its pain
The mournful hope that every throb
And grey cloud shed the morning rain
Will make it break for thee
Break for thee
My aching heart, breaks for thee
Will make it break for thee
Break for thee
Octavia, my heart breaks for thee
When wit, and wine, and friends have met
And laughter crowns the festive hour
In vain I struggle to forget
Still does my heart confess thy power
And fondly turn to thee
Turn to thee
Octavia, I turn to thee
And fondly turn to thee
Turn to thee
Octavia, I turn to thee
And laughter crowns the festive hour
In vain I struggle to forget
Still does my heart confess thy power
Turn to thee
Octavia, I turn to thee
My heart, of all that soothes its pain
The mournful hope that every throb
And grey cloud shed the morning rain
Break for thee
My aching heart, breaks for thee
Break for thee
Octavia, my heart breaks for thee
And laughter crowns the festive hour
In vain I struggle to forget
Still does my heart confess thy power
Turn to thee
Octavia, I turn to thee
Turn to thee
Octavia, I turn to thee
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