By the Rivers of Babylon we mournfully bent,
With "harps on the willows" and venture all rent,
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O, insatiable monster! Could'st thou not
In pity turn aside thy venomed shaft
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You may speak of a grave in a distant land,
Or of one 'neath ocean's foam,
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With thy rugged, ice-girt shore,
Draped in everlasting snow,
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"Cast down your bucket where you are,"
From burning sands or Polar star
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Come and listen to the chiming
Of St. Michael's merry bells,
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Columbia, all hail!
May thy banner ne'er be furled
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O Earth, adore creative power,
That made and gave to man as dower,
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Rest thee aged pilgrim, now thy toils are o'er;
Peacefully thou'st landed over Jordan's shore;
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Oh! surely 'tis a theme sublime
That stirs my soul to-day;
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When the heavens with stars are gleaming
Like a diadem of light,
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Will you leave the hills of Scotland?
Your childhood's happy home,
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Almost whose last words were
"We shall meet beyond the River."
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When the Sabbath was declining, just at twilight's
mystic hour,
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I am the month when roses
Bloom brightest o'er the glade,
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O come to me in my dreams love!
When the world is wrapped in sleep,
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I am sitting sad and lonely
Where I've often sat before,
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'Tis said but a name is friendship,
Soulless, and shallow, and vain;
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Magnolia! "Pale city of the dead,"
Adown thy gravelled walks I tread,
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Maiden --River, why in ceaseless flow
Must you ripple to and fro?
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The die is cast, come weal, come woe,
Two lives are joined together,
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Come back to me, O ye, my children;
Come back to the home as of yore;
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When the Autumn's breezes
Were sweeping o'er the land,
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Tread not the earth where lies her youthful form,
Grow violets, sweet violets, above that cherished
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My Mother! With the angels now,
Life's race completely run;
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"For so He giveth His beloved sleep."
She is not dead, but sleepeth;--
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As, I sit by the ruddy oak fire,
And feel the grateful glow,
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Bright and beautiful art thou,
Autumn flowers crown thy brow,
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Come Peace, on snowy pinions,
Come, nestle like a dove;
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Can I forget thee? No, while mem'ry lasts,
Thine image like a talisman entwined,
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