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(242) Page 224 - Life's like the dew

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(242) Page 224 - Life's like the dew
224
But, Anna, why redden ?
I would not, fair maiden,
My tongue could pronounce what might tend to betray ;
The traitor, the demon,
That could deceive woman,
His soul's all unfit for the glories of day.
Believe me, then, fairest,
To me thou art dearest ;
And though I in raptures view lake, stream, and tree,
With flower blooming mountains.
And crystalline fountains,
I view them, fair maid, but as emblems of thee.
LXXV.
LIFE'S LIKE THE DEW.
AIR.— " Scott's Boat Song.'
No sound was heard o'er the broom-cover'd valley.
Save the lone stream o'er the rock as it fell,
Warm were the sunbeams, and glancing so gaily.
That gold seem'd to dazzle along the flower'd vale.
At length from the hill I heard.
Plaintively wild, a bard,
Yet pleasant to me was his soul's ardent flow ;
" Remember what Morard says,
Morard of many days,
Life's like the dew on the hill of the roe.

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