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Article THE MOTHER TO HER DAUGHTER. Page 1 of 1 Article O! THE FLOWERY MONTH OF JUNE. Page 1 of 1
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
The Mother To Her Daughter.
THE MOTHER TO HER DAUGHTER .
WHY should ' st thou think me angry , love ? No , that can never be—In one fond thought my soul is wrapt Of tenderest love for thee . Thy innocent and candid heart , Thy ardent love for me ,
All waken , Child , my tenderest thoughts , Laden with love for thee . I view thee by thy Father ' s side , Partner of all his glee , His manly form , his generous mind , Glowing with pride in thee . Andoh ! ' st thou his honoured course
, may For e ' er be proud to see , And then , my dearest Child , thou'lt know Plow dear he ought to be . KEZIA BREWSTER . 3
O! The Flowery Month Of June.
O ! THE FLOWERY MONTH OF JUNE .
O ! the flowery month of June , again , I hail as summer ' s queen ; The hills and vallies sing in joy , and all the woods are green ; The streamlets flow in gladsome song , the birds are all in tune , And nature smiles in summer pride , in the flowery month of June !
There ' s music in the laughing sky , and balm upon the air ; The earth is stamped with loveliness , aud all around is fair . There ' s glory on the mountain top , and gladness on the plain ; The flowers wake from their wintry bed , and blush in bloom again ! O ! the flowery month of June , my heart is bounding wild and free , As with a fond and longing look , I gaze once more on thee ! With all thy thousand spangling gems—a bright and blessed boon—That come to cheer and welcome in , the flowery month of June !
The lark hath sought an upward home , far in the dewy air ; While lowly by the rose ' s cheek , the blackbird's singing there ; Or , in its leafy bowers unseen , the thrush bursts forth in song , A low and p leasing melody the woody dells among ! 0 ! the flowery month of June , ah ! me , where are the fond ones fled ? No spring comes for the parted friends , nor summer to the dead . '
1 miss them at the calm of eve , or sunny hour of noon ; Nor morning songs awake the dead , in the flowery month of June ! R . GILFILLAN .
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
The Mother To Her Daughter.
THE MOTHER TO HER DAUGHTER .
WHY should ' st thou think me angry , love ? No , that can never be—In one fond thought my soul is wrapt Of tenderest love for thee . Thy innocent and candid heart , Thy ardent love for me ,
All waken , Child , my tenderest thoughts , Laden with love for thee . I view thee by thy Father ' s side , Partner of all his glee , His manly form , his generous mind , Glowing with pride in thee . Andoh ! ' st thou his honoured course
, may For e ' er be proud to see , And then , my dearest Child , thou'lt know Plow dear he ought to be . KEZIA BREWSTER . 3
O! The Flowery Month Of June.
O ! THE FLOWERY MONTH OF JUNE .
O ! the flowery month of June , again , I hail as summer ' s queen ; The hills and vallies sing in joy , and all the woods are green ; The streamlets flow in gladsome song , the birds are all in tune , And nature smiles in summer pride , in the flowery month of June !
There ' s music in the laughing sky , and balm upon the air ; The earth is stamped with loveliness , aud all around is fair . There ' s glory on the mountain top , and gladness on the plain ; The flowers wake from their wintry bed , and blush in bloom again ! O ! the flowery month of June , my heart is bounding wild and free , As with a fond and longing look , I gaze once more on thee ! With all thy thousand spangling gems—a bright and blessed boon—That come to cheer and welcome in , the flowery month of June !
The lark hath sought an upward home , far in the dewy air ; While lowly by the rose ' s cheek , the blackbird's singing there ; Or , in its leafy bowers unseen , the thrush bursts forth in song , A low and p leasing melody the woody dells among ! 0 ! the flowery month of June , ah ! me , where are the fond ones fled ? No spring comes for the parted friends , nor summer to the dead . '
1 miss them at the calm of eve , or sunny hour of noon ; Nor morning songs awake the dead , in the flowery month of June ! R . GILFILLAN .