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Song.
265
Lo! from the peak
   Where the red rowan clings,
Softly the day descends,
   Trying her wings;
Hares shake the copses,
   And larks brush the leaves,
And swallows stir lightly
   Beneath the broad eaves;
The bird is awakening
   His song on the tree;
Bird of my morning,
   Wake music for me!