| The flowers I saw in the wild-wood
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| Have since dropped their beautiful leaves
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| And the many dear friends of my childhood
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| Have slumbered for years in their graves
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| But the bloom of the flowers I remember
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| Though their smiles I may nevermore see
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| For the cold, chilly winds of December
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| Stole my flowers' companions from me
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| It is no wonder that I’m broken-hearted
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| And stricken with sorrows should be
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| For we have met, we have loved, we have parted
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| My flowers' companions and me
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| How dark looks this world and how dreary
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| When we part from the ones that we love
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| There is rest for the faint and the weary
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| And friends meet with loved ones above
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| For in heaven I can but remember
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| When from earth my soul shall be freed
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| That no cold, chilly winds of December
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| Shall steal my companions from me |