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Recreations for Solitary Hours

The Flower Of Clyde

The Flower Of Clyde.

Tune,—"Clean Pea Strae."

Was I the lord of great estates,
And wealthy to extreme,
I'd let all wond'ring people see,
Who I do most esteem.
page 91 But would I e'er my love confess,
She'd never deign to me,
For I'm an humble shepherd swain,
And she's of high degree.

The rose that blows on Sharon's vale
I never can compare,
With the sweet flower of winding Clyde,
That blooms so fresh and fair,
She in her garden to the sun
Of fortune smiles so fair,
And nodding loads the passing breeze
With sweet perfumes so rare.

O could I reach her lofty stalk,
She would not long be there;
For I would plant her in my breast,
And bless her beauty fair.
Though I at distance may admire,
And never can enjoy;—
Oh! Heaven shield her from each storm,
That would her charms destroy.