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SONG.
"These Praires Glow with Flowers."
These prairies glow with flowers,
These groves are tall and fair,
The sweet lay of the mocking bird
Rings in the morning air;
And yet I pine to see
My native hill once more,
And hear the sparrow's friendly chirp:
Beside its cottage door.
These groves are tall and fair,
The sweet lay of the mocking bird
Rings in the morning air;
And yet I pine to see
My native hill once more,
And hear the sparrow's friendly chirp:
Beside its cottage door.
And he, for whom I left
My native hill and brook,
Alas, I sometimes think I trace
A coldness in his look.
My native hill and brook,
Alas, I sometimes think I trace
A coldness in his look.