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(36) next ››› Page 28Page 28Caller Herrin

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P7
And how long
1
must I leave thee, each fond look expresses,
Ye high rocky summits, ye ivy’d recesses,
How long must I leave thee, thou wood shaded river,
The echoes all sigh as they whisper for ever!
Tho’ the autumn winds rave, and the seared leaves fall,
And winter hangs out her cold icy pall
Yet the footsteps of spring again ye will see,
And the singing of birds hut they sing not for me.
The joys of the past, more faintly recalling,
Sweet visions of peace on her spirit are falling,
And the soft wing of time, as it speeds for the morrow,
Wafts a gale, that is drying the dew drops of sorrow.
Hope dawns and the toils of life’s journey beguiling,
The path of the mourner is cheered with its smiling.
And there her heart rests, and her wishes all centre,
Where parting is never nor sorrow can enter 1

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