449. Song—The Flowery banks of Cree
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ERE is the glen, and here the bower All underneath the birchen shade;The village-bell has told the hour, O what can stay my lovely maid? ’Tis not Maria’s whispering call; ’Tis but the balmy breathing gale,Mixt with some warbler’s dying fall, The dewy star of eve to hail. It is Maria’s voice I hear; So calls the woodlark in the grove,His little, faithful mate to cheer; At once ’tis music and ’tis love. And art thou come! and art thou true! O welcome dear to love and me!And let us all our vows renew, Along the flowery banks of Cree.
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