Song of the Reapers.

A poem by George Pope Morris

Joyous the carol that rings in the mountains,
While the cleared vales are refreshed by the fountains--
After the harvest the cheerful notes fall,
And all the glad reapers re-echo the call!
La ra la la, &c.

Oh, how the heart bounds at that simple refrain!
Dear haunts of my childhood, I'm with you again!
Green be your valleys, enriched by the rills,
And long may that carol be sung on your hills!
La ra la la, &c.

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