Page:Dear is my little native vale.pdf/2

 DEAR IS MY LITTLE NATIVE VALE.

Dear is my little native vale.

The ring-dove builds and warbles there,

Close by my cot tells her tale,

To every passing villager?

The squirrel leaps fron tree to tree,

And shells his nuts as liberty.

In orange groves, and 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 weave

For those that win the at eve,

The shepherd's horn at break of day,

The danc'd at twilight glade,

The and ,

Sung in the silent greenwood :

These simple joys, that fail,

Shall ,