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(ISsvy)
Heaven speed thee poplar tree
River river little river
Sighing softIy to the river
Comes the Ioving breeze
May thy loving prosper ever
Setting nature all a'quiver
RustIing through the trees
May thy wooing happy be
Heaven speed thee poplar tree
And the brook in rippling
Measure laughs for very love
May thy wooing happy be
While the poplars in their
Pleasure wave their arms above
