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fragment,—damon and sylvia
tune—“the tither morn.”
yon wandering rill that marks the hill,
and glances o'er the brae, sir,
slides by a bower, where mony a flower
sheds fragrance on the day, sir;
there damon lay, with sylvia gay,
to love they thought no crime, sir,
the wild birds sang, the echoes rang,
while damon's heart beat time, sir.