﻿LITTLE HARRY LEE. 



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For never lived a better boy 

 Than little Harry Lee. 



But autumn came, and every leaf 



Grew yellow on the tree ; 

 And through the naked branches swept 



The wind, so drearily ! 



And then, alas ! no cousin came 

 To gather flowers with me : 



But every day I climbed the hill, 

 To look for Harry Lee. 



But still, throughout the weary day, 



No Harry could I see ; 

 And echo, when I called his name, 



Would answer Harry Lee ! 



At last, beside the very brook 

 Where he had played with me, 



I found a little grassy grave, 

 Where rested Harry Lee. 



And on this liitle, narrow grave, 



My tears were falling free, 

 When from the skv I heard the voice 



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Of little Harry Lee. 



" My cousin Mary, cease to shed 



Those bitter tears for me ; 

 For Jesus Christ once died to save 



Poor little Harry Lee. 



" And in his arms, for evermore, 



Safe sheltered I shall be ; 

 He loves me more than you could love 



Poor little Harry Lee ! ' 



And then I wiped my falling tears, 

 And smiling, turned to see, 



If I could find the cherub face 

 Of little Harry Lee. 



The clouds around the setting sun 

 Were sailing bright and free, 



And weaving o'er the evening sky 

 Their golden drapery. 



