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My child! they gave thee to another,
My little joy! my little pride!
In two days more I must have died.
Then do not weep and grieve for me;
I feel I must have died with thee.
Oh wind that o'er my head art flying, .
The way my friends their course did bend,
I should not feel the pain of dying,
Could I with thee a message send.
Too soon, my friends, you went away;
For I had many things to say.
I'll follow you across the snoWj
My journey will be shortly run,
I shall not see another sun,
I cannot lift my limbs to know
If they have any life or rio;
My poor forsaken child! if I
For once could haTe thee close to nte,
With happy heart I then should die,
And my last thoughts Wduld happy be.
I feel my body die away,
I shall not see astttber dayL
LAST OF THE FLOCK.
In distant countries I have been,
He saw me, and he turned aside,
When I was young, a single man,
Year after year my stock it grew,
And from this one, this single ewe,
Full fifty comely sheep I raised,
As sweet a flock as ever grazed!
Upon the mountain did they feed;
They throve, and we at home did thrive.,
—This lusty lamb of all my store
Is all that is alive;
And now I care not if we die,
And perish all of poverty.
Six children, Sir! had I to feed,
Hard labour in a time of need!
My pride was tamed, and in our grief,
I of the parish ask'd relief.
They said I was a wealthy man;
My sheep upon the mountain fed,
And it was fit that thence I took
Whereof to buy us bread:"
"Do this; how can we give to you,"
They cried, "what to the poor is due?"