Dear is my little native vale/Dear is my little native vale

DEAR IS MY LITTLE NATIVE VALE.

⁠Dear is my little native vale.
The ring-dove builds and warbles there,
Close by my cot ⟨she⟩ tells her tale,
To every passing villager?
The squirrel leaps fron tree to tree,
And shells his nuts as liberty.

⁠In orange groves, and ⟨myrtle⟩ bow'rs,
That breath a gale of fragrance round,
I charm the fairy footed hours
With my love'd lute's romantic sound.
Or crowns of living ⟨laurel⟩ weave
For those that win the ⟨race⟩ at eve,

⁠The shepherd's horn at break of day,
The ⟨ballot⟩ danc'd at twilight glade,
The ⟨Canzonet⟩ and ⟨roundelay⟩,
Sung in the silent greenwood ⟨shade⟩:
These simple joys, that ⟨never⟩ fail,
Shall ⟨bind me to my native vale⟩,