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[When I roam o'er the fields at the opening of dawn]
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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[When I roam o'er the fields at the opening of dawn]

When I roam o'er the fields at the opening of dawn,
On the flowers that bloom round how enchanted I dwell!
But sweeter the dew-drops that spangle the lawn,
And dearer the gem in the gay blossom's bell:
So when beauty is beaming and blooming around,
Though her bloom and her smile to my bosom are dear,
Yet dearer the eye that is bent on the ground,
And sweeter the ray of affliction's soft tear.
When the blossoms of Nature are spangled with dew,
Or wet with the drops of the Spring's gentle shower,
O, there's naught in creation more sweet to my view,
And that which droops most is the loveliest flower:

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So when beauty is weeping, her charms are more dear,
Those tears all her blushes, like rainbows, illume;
And oh! the most charming and heavenly tear
A fair sister sheds on a loved brother's tomb.