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The Song Book |
319 |
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CCXLIV
THE DEW EACH TREMBLING LEAF |
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But now o'er dreary scenes I range,
Where once such beauties shone, Yet blooming nature knows no change,
Alas ! 'tis all thine own. The rose still holds its lovely form,
The dew still sparkles on the tree, But, oh ! the smile that gave the charm
No longer beams on me.
Words (translated from the original Irish) by Miss Balfour. Tune Nancy of the branching Tresses. From Bunting's Music of Ireland. |
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