Текст оригинала на английском языке
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Little birds in yonder grove, Making nests, and making love, Come sing upon your favorite tree, Once more your sweetest songs to me: An exile from these scenes I go, Whither, I neither care nor know: Perhaps to some far distant shore, Never again to hear you more. The river Lea glides smoothly by, Unconscious of my agony. This bursting sigh-this last sad tear, On quitting all I hold so dear, Are felt-are heard-are seen by none, Left as I am by every one. Farewell to Brocket's gladsome hall, Farewell to Dawson's fruitful wall, Farewell to Hassard's cheering smile, His hearty laugh, which cares no guile: Ever supported, 'till a sad tear, Dimm'd his bright eye for me this year. Farewell the faithful Welwyn band, The poor-the kind-my own dear land. Where'er I go, God bless you all; And thus I leave thee, Brocket Hall: Time was, a youthful happy child, Thoughtless, undaunted-wanton-gay, and wild, I came from home and parents dear, To find a home and husband here, My joyous days with youth are fled, My friends are either chang'd or dead: My faults-my follies-leave these alone, They live in the mouth of every one, And still remain when all is gone. This is my twentieth marriage year, They celebrate with Hassard's beer; They dance-they sing-they bless the day, I weep the while-and well I may: Husband, nor child, to greet me come, Without a friend-without a home: I sit beneath my favorite tree, Sing then, my little birds, to me, In music, love, and liberty.
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