I hear the brown-streak'd linnet sing;
the hedge alive with song,
beside a wall where ivies cling,
and I would linger long.
The tranquil mood of Erin's hills
in verdant velvet, clothed,
with distant thoughts my spirit fills,
of love and my betrothed
.
The little finch, which sitting near
and singing songs of life,
with beauty, minds me of my dear,
whom I will take to wife.
His flash of red, the hue of love,
he shows to woo his mate,
who watches shyly from above
the wrought-iron garden gate.
A rose of red I'll not forget,
to woo my future bride,
for though the wedding date is set,
I'd give her time and tide.
I bid the linnet fond adieu,
and taking rose in hand,
I'm off to wed my lover true,
and place the golden band.
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