Songs, Merry and Sad by John Charles McNeill
page 10 of 71 (14%)
page 10 of 71 (14%)
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'T will not be long before they hear The bullbat on the hill, And in the valley through the dusk The pastoral whippoorwill. A few more friendly suns will call The bluets through the loam And star the lanes with buttercups Away down home. "Knee-deep!" from reedy places Will sing the river frogs. The terrapins will sun themselves On all the jutting logs. The angler's cautious oar will leave A trail of drifting foam Along the shady currents Away down home. The mocking-bird will feel again The glory of his wings, And wanton through the balmy air And sunshine while he sings, With a new cadence in his call, The glint-wing'd crow will roam From field to newly-furrowed field Away down home. |
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