SOUND, sweet song, from some far land, Sighing softly close at hand,Now of joy, and now of woe!Stars are wont to glimmer so.Sooner thus will good unfold;Children young and children old Gladly hear thy numbers flow. 1820.*
SOUND, sweet song, from some far land,
Sighing softly close at hand,
Now of joy, and now of woe!
Stars are wont to glimmer so.
Sooner thus will good unfold;
Children young and children old
Gladly hear thy numbers flow.
1820.*