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I HAD a dove and the sweet dove died;
Why, pretty thing! would you not live with me?
SHED no tear! O, shed no tear!
To ease my breast of melodies
Shed no tear.
Overhead! look overhead!
'Mong the blossoms white and red-
The flower will bloom another year.
I vanish in the heaven's blue
AH! woe is me! poor silver-wing!
These blossoms snow upon thy lady's pall!
Go, pretty page! and in her ear
Go, pretty page! and soothly tell,-
That now in vain are weeping their last tears,
EXTRACTS FROM AN OPERA.
O! WERE I one of the Olympian twelve,
Each step he took should make his lady's hand
More soft, more white, and her fair cheek more fair;
And for each brier-berry he might eat,
A kiss should bud upon the tree of love,
O, I am frighten'd with most hateful thoughts!
My lady's maid had a silken scarf,
And a golden ring had she,
And a kiss from the stranger, as off he went
Again on his fair palfrey.