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13o THE GOLDEN TREASURY OF |
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Oh ! light as fairy tread her voice fell on my bounding heart;
And like the wild bee to the flower still clinging we would part.
" Sweet valley of Shanganagh," then I murmured, '"though I die,
My soul will never leave thee for the heaven that's in the sky!"
In the Valley of Shanganagh, where the sullen seagulls gleam,
And the pine-scent fills the sighing breeze as death the lover's dream,
'Twas there I lost my Maggie. Why that fate upon us fell
The powers above us knew, perhaps, if only they would tell.
Oh ! like the tread of mournful feet it fell upon my
heart, When, as the wild bee leaves the rose, her spirit did
depart. In the Valley still I linger, though it's fain I am to
die, But it's hard to find a far-off heaven when clouds are
in the sky. |
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