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(203) Page 195 - While the gray-pinion'd lark
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WHILE THE GRAY-PINION 9 D LARK.
\V hile the gray-pinion'd lark early mounts to the skies,
And chearily hails the sweet dawn,
And the sun, newly ris'n, sheds the mist from his eyes.
And smiles over mountain and lawn.
Delighted I stray by the fairy-wood side,
Where the dew-drops the crowflow'rs adorn,
And Nature, array'd in her midsummer's pride,
Sweetly smiles to the smile of the morn*
Ye dark waving plantings, ye green shady bow'rs,
Your charms ever varying I view,
My soul's dearest transports, my happiest hours,
Have ow'd half their pleasures to you.
Sweet Ferguslie, hail ! thou'rt the dear sacred grove,
Where first my young Muse spread her wing,
Here Nature first wak'd me to rapture and love,
And taught me her beauties to sing,

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