Then here’s to the oak, the brave old oak,Who stands in his pride alone!And still flourish he, a hale green tree,When a hundred years are gone!
Meet me by moonlight alone, and then I will tell you a tale. Must be told by the moonlight alone, in the grove at the end of the vale! You must promise to come, for I said I would show the night-flowers their queen. Nay, turn not away that sweet head,'tis the loveliest ever was seen.j. augustine wade
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