The sparrow sings his happy song,
As clouds slowly roll along,
The summer night of mercy,
On the golden shores of Jersey.
His chirps of laughter bathe my 'tentive ear,
A sound familiar, and one I love to hear,
His joy abounds, to sing his cheery tune,
In the midst of a dewy morn' in June.
His celebration lasts the whole day,
His life fulfilled, as if to say,
What joy must be to sing his song of laughter,
Without a fear of sorrow after.
-father of the moth
(d.m.)
(d.m.)
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