Old green lane

The spreading oak at the lane end 
Was neer so green and bright 
Nor the thorn so sweet in that lone glen 
As they were that sunday night 
The sun it set & lowly dropt
Yet gold clouds did remain 
& though the singing birds are stopt 
I love the Old green lane 
The beaten path went winding on 
The bushes lookd so green 
The leveret it went scouting on 
& nothing else was seen

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