The Golden Treasury of American Songs and Lyrics by Various
page 47 of 267 (17%)
page 47 of 267 (17%)
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And frosts and shortening days portend
The aged year is near his end. Then doth thy sweet and quiet eye Look through its fringes to the sky, Blue--blue--as if that sky let fall A flower from its cerulean wall. I would that thus, when I shall see The hour of death draw near to me, Hope, blossoming within my heart, May look to heaven as I depart. W.C. BRYANT. The Crowded Street. Let me move slowly through the street, Filled with an ever-shifting train, Amid the sound of steps that beat The murmuring walks like autumn rain. How fast the flitting figures come! The mild, the fierce, the stony face,-- Some bright with thoughtless smiles, and some Where secret tears have left their trace. |
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