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FANNY.
The first wild-bird that drinks the dew,
From violets of the spring,
Has music in his song, and in
The fluttering of his wing.
3.
When the swift bark cleaves their foam;
There's music heard upon her deck,
The mariner's song of home,
When moon and star beams smiling meet
At midnight on the sea—
And there is music—once a week—
In Scudder's balcony.
4.
Is faint, and dies away,
And from our morning dreams we wake
To curse the coming day.
And childhood's frolic hours are brief,
And oft in after-years
Their memory comes to chill the heart,
And dim the eye with tears.
5.
They'll wither on the morrow,