O' my sweet Highland Mary. How sweetly bloom'd the gay green birk, How rich the hawthorn's blossom, As underneath their fragrant shade I clasp'd her to my bosom ! The golden hours on angel wings Flew o'er me and my dearie; For dear to me as light and... The Bridal Bouquet Culled in the Garden of Literature - Page 115 edited by - 1873 - 388 pages Full view -
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