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THE WOODLAND HALLO.
In our cottage, that peeps from the skirts of the wood,
I am mistreme, no mother have I;
And kind is my lover, hard by:
Both wi odmen, my father and Joe;
So much of a laugh or - Hallo!
my basket at noon they expect their supply, And with joy from my threshold I spring; For the woodlands I love, and the oaks waving high,
And Echo that sings as I siper.
As I call the dear name of my Joe;
And my heart leaps to hear the-Hallo!
Simple flowers of the grove, little birds, live at ease,
I wish not to wander from you;
For I know that my Joe will be true.