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92 OTHER VERSE
Bright tears of joy shall dim the eye
For darling Jessie Brown, Who hears, while others 'round her die,
The welcome slogan's sound. Here poor old Rip shall totter in
To seek his little cot, And find how, in Life's rush and din,
We are so soon forgot.
The earth, the sky, the boundless sea,
And every race and age, Before these scenes shall gathered be
Upon this spacious stage. Here Pleasure with her smiles shall bring
Surcease from daily cares, And dullen Sorrow's sharpened sting,
And lift the woe she bears.
'Tis bitter to love her thus, he said;
'Tis bitter that she loves me. 'Twere better to go where death hath led, Where war is cruel, and blood is shedó
Far better than thus to be.