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* * * SING on, fairy Devon, ’Mong gardens and bowers, Where love’s feast lies spread In an Eden o’ flowers. What visions o’ beauty My mind has possessed, In thy gowany dell Where a seraph might rest. Sing on, lovely river, To hillock and tree A lay o’ the loves O’ my Jessie an’ me; For nae angel lightin’, A posie to pu’, Can match the fair form O’ the lassie I lo’e. Sweet river, dear river, Sing on in your glee, In thy pure breast the mind O’ my Jessie I see. How aft ha’e I wandered, As gray gloamin’ fell, Rare dreamins o’ heaven My lassie to tell. Sing on, lovely Devon, The sang that ye sung When earth in her beauty Frae night’s bosom sprung, For lanesome and eerie This warld aye would be Did clouds ever fa’ Atween Jessie and me. John Crawford's other poems: Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1209 |
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