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THE MOUNTAIN DEW.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

THE MOUNTAIN DEW.

By yon mountain tipp'd with cloud,
By the torrent foaming loud,
By the dingle where the purple bells of heather grew,
Where Alpine flowers are hid,
And where bounds the nimble kid,
There we've wander'd both together through the mountain dew.
With what delight, in summer's night, we trod the twilight gloom,
The air so full of fragrance from the flow'rs so full of bloom,
And our hearts so full of joy—for aught else there was no room,
As we wander'd both together through the mountain dew.

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Those sparkling gems that rest
On the mountain's flow'ry breast
Are like the joys we number—they are bright and few;
For a while to earth are given,
And are called again to heaven,
When the spirit of the morning steals the mountain dew.
But memory, angelic, makes a heaven on earth for men,
Her rosy light recalleth bright the dew-drops back again,
The warmth of love exhales them from that well-remembered glen,
Where we wandered both together through the mountain dew.