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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.
And he, for whom I left My native hill and brook,Alas, I sometimes think I trace A coldness in his look.
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