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94 SONGS ETC.
Crowding around thy grassy braes
The timid wild flowers creep, To see their forms reflected fair
Within thy gentle deep.
Now through the insect-haunted grove Thy silent path thou'rt wending,
The giant trees in homage deep To kiss thy wave are bending.
The blue-wing'd swallow bathes her breast While o'er thee she doth glide ;
The wild bee pauses in her work To sip thy glassy tide.
By well-till'd field and garden,
And egg-white cottage wall, Thou wand'rest on, while fruit trees blow
And rose leaves on thee fall.
The angling streams run round the stones
Where maidens meet at eve, With rural jest and merry laugh,
Their unshod feet to lave.
So gentle and so beautiful,
Thou boldest on thy way, So harmless, e'en small children in
Thy sunny shallows play.
Roll on, roll on, I shall not draw
A moral from thy race, Enough for me, 0 angling stream,
Thy pleasant banks to trace.