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OUR FAMILIAR SONGS. |
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Gone art thou, Marion, Marion Moore!
Gone like the breeze o'er the billow that
bloweth; Gone like the rill to the ocean that floweth ; Gone as the day, from the grey mountain goeth, Darkness behind thee, but glory before. |
Peace to thee, Marion, Marion Moore,—
Peace which the queens of the earth cannot
borrow; Peace from a kingdom that crown'd thee with
sorrow. O! to be happy with thee on the morrow, Who would not fly from this desolate shore? |
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