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How often she has gazed from castle windows over And watched the daylight passing within her captive wall With no-one to heed her call The evening hour is fading within the dwindling sun And in a lonely moment those embers will be gone And the last of all the young birds flown Her days of precious freedom, forfeited long before To live such fruitless years behind a guarded door But those days will last no more Tomorrow at this hour she will be far away Much farther than these islands Or the lonely Fotheringay