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at morn,

Emerging from the night from gloomy thoughts, thee in my thoughts,

Yearning for thee harmonious Union! thee, singing bird divine!

Thee coil'd in evil times my country, with craft and black dismay, with every meanness, treason thrust upon thee,

This common marvel I beheld—the parent thrush I watch'd feeding its young,

The singing thrush whose tones of joy and faith ecstatic,

Fail not to certify and cheer my soul.

