| A daffodil is born und rises in the spring
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| It opens out it’s beauty to hear the cricket sing
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| But as quick as it does grow, it decays away so soon
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| Before the summer sunshine has reached it’s golden noon
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| Before the summer sunshine has reached it’s golden noon
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| A stream it does rise from the mountain so tall
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| It swells into a river and gently it does fall
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| It meanders through valley, through city and through town
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| But in the boundless ocean, this river it is drowned
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| Aye in the boundless ocean, this river it is drowned
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| On the sea the winds do rage and the waves grow so high
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| Whitening the surface as they reach up to the sky
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| But soon the waves grow gentle, no longer do they roar
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| As they make their lonesome passageway up to the pebble shore
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| As they make their lonesome passageway up to the pebble shore
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| If I was like the daffodil, so fair upon the ground
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| Or like the winding river with it’s sweet and mellow sound
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| Like a wave up to the shore, like a river into the sea
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| I’d lay down in my resting place, contented there to be
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| I’d lay down in my resting place and contented I would be |