I have heard the mavis singing his love song to the moon.
I have seen the dewdrop clinging to the rose just nearly born, but a sweeter song has cheered me at the evening's gentle close, and I've seen an eye still brighter than the dewdrop on the rose.
'Twas thy voice, my gentle Mary, and thine artless winning smile that made the world an Eden, Bonnie Mary of Argyle.
Though thy voice may lose its sweetness, and thine eye its brightness too, though thy step may lack its fleetness and thy hair its sunny hue, still to me wilt thou be dearer than all the world shall own.
I have loved thee for thy beauty, but not for that alone.
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