Page:The Golden Violet.pdf/302

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The sunshine of the morning Is abroad upon the hills, With the singing of the green-wood leaves, And of a thousand rills. There springs the youthful hunter With his winged spear and bow, He hath the falcon's flashing eye, The fleet foot of the roe. He goes with a light carol, And his own heart is as light; On, on he bounds from rock to rock, Rejoicing in his might.

The sunshine of the morning Is abroad upon yon fane, There, mid his country's monuments, Dreams the young bard his strain.