THE BLAZING STAR 



purple plume, 

 Amid the gloom 



Of prairies wide and wild, 



1 joy to see 

 Thee smile on me, 



As when I was a child. 



On new-mown hay, 

 One summer day, 



I saw thee prostrate lie; 

 The sickle's blade 

 A wound had made, 



And laid thee down to die. 



I saw thee fade, 

 Where thou wast laid, 



The purple left thy bloom; 

 Then, with a cry, 

 A lark flew by 



And sang above thy tomb. 



But thy decease 

 Brought thee release 



From storms and winter's woe 

 And in the mow, 

 Safe sheltered now, 



Art thou from wind and snow. 



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