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The Song Book |
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With thee were the dreams of my earliest love,
Every thought of my reason was thine,— In my last humble prayer to the Spirit above,
Thy name shall be mingled with mine! Oh! blest are the lovers and friends who shall live
The days of thy glory to see; But the next dearest blessing that Heaven can give,
Is the pride of thus dying for thee.
Words by Moore. Tune The Fox's Sleep.
CCXLI WREATHE THE BOWL |
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