OUR NATIVE VALLEY.
GEEALD GRIEFIN. Know ye not that lovely river 1 Know ye not that smiling river, Whose gentle flood, by cliff and wood, With wildering sound goes winding ever 1 Oh, often yet, with feeling strong, Oh that dear stream my memory ponders, And still I prize its murmuring song, For by my childhood's home it wanders.
There's music in each wind that blows Within our native valley breathing ; There's beauty in each flower that grows Around our native valley wreathing. The memory of our brightest joys In childhood's happy morn that found us, Is dearer than the richest toys, The present vainly sheds around us.
Oh, sister, when 'mid doubts and fears, That haunt life's onward journey ever, I turn to those departed years, And that beloved and lovely river ; With sinking mind and bosom riven And heart with lonely anguish aching, It needs my long-taught hope in heaven, To keep that weary heart from breaking,
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Hawke's Bay Times, Issue 1536, 23 December 1873, Page 57
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159OUR NATIVE VALLEY. Hawke's Bay Times, Issue 1536, 23 December 1873, Page 57
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