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I WOULD NOT DIE IN SPRING TIME |
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3 When breezes leave the mountain.
Its balmy sweets all o'er—^ To breathe around the fountain
And fan our bow'rs no more. When Summer flow'rs are dying
Within the lonely glen, And Autumn winds arc sighing—
I would not perish thdn. |
4 But let me die in Winter
When night hangs dark above, And cold the snow is lying
On bosoms that we love-Ah! may the wind at midnight,
That bloweth from the sea, Chant mildly, softly, sweetly,
A requiem for me. |
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I'LL BE A SOLDIER |
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