Allan Cunningham Poems

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The Spring Of The Year

GONE were but the winter cold,
   And gone were but the snow,
I could sleep in the wild woods
   Where primroses blow.

Sea Song

A wet sheet and a flowing sea,
A wind that follows fast,
And fills the white and rustling sail,
And bends the gallant mast-

The Sun Rises Bright In France

THE sun rises bright in France,
   And fair sets he;
But he has tint the blythe blink he had
   In my ain countree.

Last Words

Gane were but the winter cauld,
And gane were but the snaw,
I could sleep in the wild woods,
Where primroses blaw.

Hame, Hame, Hame

HAME, hame, hame, O hame fain wad I be--
O hame, hame, hame, to my ain countree!

When the flower is i' the bud and the leaf is on the tree,

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