| Ay — There It Is! |
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| To A.S., 1830 |
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| Weaned from life and torn away |
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| It is not pride, it is not shame |
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| But the hearts that once adored me |
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| I've been wandering in the greenwoods |
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| Deep, deep down in the silent grave |
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| Heaven's glory shone where he was laid |
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| Was it with the fields of green |
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| I gazed within thine earnest eyes |
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