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 A SONG OF AUSTRALIA

26, 1788.

fills to-day my bosom, and it flies through every vein, It comes as on the parched plain descends mid-summer rain; It fills my soul with gladness, e'en to aerial beings new, As sunbeams fall on budding flowers when morning gilds the dew.

No more I'm like a maiden that's neglected in her bloom, Doomed when bridals throng the highway to pine in lonely gloom;