How dear to my heart are the scenes of my childhood, When fond recollection recalls them to view; The orchard, the meadow, the deep-tangled wildwood, And every loved spot which my infancy knew.
Then soon with the emblem of truth overflowing, And dripping with coolness, it rose from the well. - Samuel Woodworth
Then soon with the emblem of truth overflowing, And dripping with coolness, it rose from the well.
- Samuel Woodworth
How dear to my heart are the scenes of my childhood, When fond recollection recalls them to view; The orchard, the meadow, the deep-tangled wildwood,… - Samuel Woodworth
How dear to my heart are the scenes of my childhood, When fond recollection recalls them to view; The orchard, the meadow, the deep-tangled wildwood,…
How dear to this heart are the scenes of my childhood, When fond recollection presents them to view. - Samuel Woodworth
How dear to this heart are the scenes of my childhood, When fond recollection presents them to view.
The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket, The moss-covered bucket, which hung in the well. - Samuel Woodworth
The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket, The moss-covered bucket, which hung in the well.
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