Chapter 532 of 1414 · 53 words · ~1 min read

III.

So thou, dear bird, young Jeany fair, On trembling string or vocal air, Shall sweetly pay the tender care That tends thy early morning. So thou, sweet rose-bud, young and gay, Shalt beauteous blaze upon the day, And bless the parent's evening ray That watch'd thy early morning.

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