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THE WILD CHERRY TREE. 
O,—there never was yet so fair a thing, 
By racing river or bubbling spring, 
Nothing that ever so gaily grew 
Up from the ground when the skies were blue, 
Nothing so brave—nothing so free 
As thou—my wild wild Cherry-tree! 
Jove! how it danced in the gusty breeze! 
Jove! how it frolicked amongst the trees! 
Dashing the pride of the poplar down, 
Stripping the thorn of his hoary crown! 
Oak or Ash—what matter to thee? 
"'T’ was the same to my wild Cherry-tree. 
Never at rest, like one that’s young 
Abroad to the winds its arms it flung, 
Shaking its bright and crowned head, 
Whilst I stole up for its berries red— 
Beautiful berries! beautiful tree ! 
Hurrah! for the wild wild Cherry-tree ! 
Back I fly to the days gone by, 
And I see thy branches against the sky, 
