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28; |
The Song Book |
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ccxx IN RINGLETS CURLED |
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Oh would that on thy bosom laid,
While Erin's sons are hush'd to rest, I might beneath the green-wood shade,
Breathe the pure raptures of my breast! Sweet blooming flower! thy sex's pride,
To me a guiding star thou art, And Heaven itself will sure preside
O'er love that fills a virtuous heart. |
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