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The May-sun sheds an Amber light
On new-leaved woods and lawns between;
But she who, with a smile more bright,
Welcomeandwatchthe springinggreen,
isin hergrave,
Lowin hergrave.
The fair white blossoms of the wood
In groups beside the pathway stand;
But one, the gentle and the good,
Who cropped them with a fairer hand,
lsin hergrave,
Lowin hergrave.
Upon the woodland's morning airs
The small birds' mingled notes are flung;
But she, whose voice, more sweet than theirs,
Once bade me listen, while they sung,
lsin hergrave,
Lowin hergrave.
Thatmusicoftheearlyyear
Brings tears of anguish to my eyes;
My heart aches when the flowers appear;
For then I think of her who lies
Within hergrave,
Lowin hergrave.
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