| When Spring unfolds the beechen leaf, and sap is in the bough;
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| When light is on the wild-wood stream, and wind is on the brow;
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| When stride is long, and breath is deep, and keen the mountain-air,
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| Come back to me! |
| Come back to me, and say my land is fair!
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| When Spring is come to garth and field, and corn is in the blade;
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| When blossom like a shining snow is on the orchard laid;
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| When shower and Sun upon the Earth with fragrance fill the air,
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| I’ll linger here, and will not come, because my land is fair.
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| When Summer lies upon the world, and in a noon of gold
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| Beneath the roof of sleeping leaves the dreams of trees unfold;
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| When woodland halls are green and cool, and wind is in the West,
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| Come back to me! |
| Come back to me, and say my land is best!
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| When Summer warms the hanging fruit and burns the berry brown;
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| When straw is gold, and ear is white, and harvest comes to town;
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| When honey spills, and apple swells, though wind be in the West,
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| I’ll linger here beneath the Sun, because my land is best!
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| When Winter comes, the winter wild that hill and wood shall slay;
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| When trees shall fall and starless night devour the sunless day;
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| When wind is in the deadly East, then in the bitter rain
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| I’ll look for thee, and call to thee; |
| I’ll come to thee again!
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| When Winter comes, and singing ends; |
| when darkness falls at last;
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| When broken is the barren bough, and light and labour past;
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| I’ll look for thee, and wait for thee, until we meet again:
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| Together we will tkae the road beneath the bitter rain!
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| Together we will take the road that leads into the West,
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| And far away will find a land where both our hearts may rest. |