PATTY
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e swampy falls of pasture ground,And rushy spreading greens;Ye rising swells in brambles bound,And freedom’s wilder’d scenes;I’ve trod ye oft, and love ye dear,And kind was fate to let me;On you I found my all, for here’Twas first my Patty met me. Flow on, thou gently plashing stream,O’er weed-beds wild and rank;Delighted I’ve enjoy’d my dreamUpon thy mossy bank:Bemoistening many a weedy stem,I’ve watched thee wind so clearly;And on thy bank I found the gemThat makes me love thee dearly. Thou wilderness, so rudely gay;Oft as I seek thy plain,Oft as I wend my steps away,And meet my joys again,And brush the weaving branches byOf briars and thorns so matty;So oft Reflection warms a sigh,--Here first I meet my Patty.
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