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THE MOORLAND MAID.
I
There's a limpid rindling fountain,Yonder moorland hills among;
From the heather-breasted mountain
Tinkling drips its liquid song;
To its lonely music list'ning,
Once a maiden sat thereby;
Oh, that maiden's dark eye glist'ning—
It will haunt me till I die.
II
In that fragrant, wild seclusion.With the soaring lark above,
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Listen'd to our vows of love:
Sunny skies, and flow'rs around us,
On my rustic darling smiled;
And the dewy twilight found us
Ling'ring still amid the wild.
III
Oh, mild hour, when eve's lone planetGilds the pearls on every blade;
Angel-zephyrs came to fan it—
Blissful hour of mystic shade;
Sweet the wild-birds's trilling vespers
Died upon the dewy lea;
But my darling's gentle whispers
Never more will fade from me.
IV
Ah, that scene is now too sadd'ning—Saddest in its richest bloom;
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Move my heart to deeper gloom;
Birds may hail the scented blossom
Oft on smiling hill and plain,
But the green earth's silent bosom
Ne'er will yield my love again.
V
Thus to meet thee, but to sever;Thus to love, and then to part—
Oh, the bliss, the pain, for ever
Mingling in my lonely heart:
Oh, those lovely glances, darting
Modest gleams of timid glee;
Oh, the last sad hour of parting,
'Tween my own true love and me.
VI
Farewell to yon breezy mountain;Farewell to the flow'ry dell;
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And the lonely moorland well;
Farewell to the streamlet, purling
Sweetly through yon silent glen;
Oh, farewell, the dark-eyed darling
I shall never see again!
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