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The lay of the Scottish fiddle : a tale of Havre de Grace | ||
I.
The opening eye-lids of the dawn,A smiling glance threw o'er the lawn,
49
And Gossamers all sparkling lay,
Like veil bespangled all with gold,
And thrown in many a careless fold,
O'er the fair head of damsel gay,
To hide her beauties from the day
The lay of the Scottish fiddle : a tale of Havre de Grace | ||