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The Song Book |
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CCXLIII |
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THE MEETING OF THE WATERS. |
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Yet it was not that Nature had shed o'er the scene Her purest of crystal and brightest of green; 'Twas not the soft magic of streamlet or hill; O no—it was something more exquisite still:—
'Twas that friends, the belov'd of my bosom, were near, Who made ev'ry dear scene of enchantment more dear; And who felt how the best charms of Nature improve When we see them reflected in looks that we love.
Sweet vale of Avoca! how calm could I rest
In thy bosom of shade, with the friends I love best,
Where the storms which we feel in this cold world should cease,
And our hearts, like thy waters, be mingled in peace.
Words by Moore. Tune (from Bunting) The Wild Gce^e. |
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