Love is a many-splendored thing,
ItââŹâ˘s the april rose that only grows in the early spring,
Love is natureââŹâ˘s way of giving a reason to be living,
The golden crown that makes a man a king.
Lost on a high and windy hill,
In the morning mist two lovers kissed and the world stood still,
When our fingers touch my silent heart has taught us how to sing,
Yes, true loveââŹâ˘s a many-splendored thing.
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