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IRISH MELODIES. |
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Oft as summer closes, When thine eye reposes On its ling'ring roses.
Once so lov'd by thee, Think of her who wove them, Her who made thee love them,
Oh ! then remember me.
When, around thee dying, Autumn leaves are lying,
Oh ! then remember me. And, at night, when gazing On the gay hearth blazing,
Oh ! still remember me. Then should music, stealing All the soul of feeling, To thy heart appealing,
Draw one tear from thee ; Then let memory bring thee Strains I us'd to sing thee,—
Oh ! then remember me. |
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