SONG.
Not always the prettiest flowersFill the air with the sweetest perfume;And not always the sweetest singerIs the bird with the fairest plume.But the sweetness surpassing all other,And the richest and tenderest strain,Rise out of the bosom that knowethThe feelings of love and pain.
Not always the prettiest flowersFill the air with the sweetest perfume;And not always the sweetest singerIs the bird with the fairest plume.But the sweetness surpassing all other,And the richest and tenderest strain,Rise out of the bosom that knowethThe feelings of love and pain.
Not always the prettiest flowersFill the air with the sweetest perfume;And not always the sweetest singerIs the bird with the fairest plume.
But the sweetness surpassing all other,And the richest and tenderest strain,Rise out of the bosom that knowethThe feelings of love and pain.