["My Own Sweet Avon Moor"]

My Own Sweet Avon moor
  3d v
 {glade
*But the sweetest charm of my native 
 Was the form of a maiden fair
 bending blade
**Though her tread hath passed from the  
 Her spirit dwells in the air
She will come in dreams like a pleasant guest
 To speak of the days of yon yore
And the cup of bliss that our lips have pressd
 In my own Sweet Avon moor

I little cared where I laid my head
 For the trees that the tempest tore
For me had shed a leafy bed
 On the hills of Avonmoor


[at the bottom, smaller:]
* But the sweetest charm was a fairy form
  —/√
**Though her feet have strayed from the bending blade