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John Clarke-Whitfeld
(1770 - 1836)
O life, how pleasing
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O life, how pleasing
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From Eight Glees, Op. 4. Published in 1798, when Clarke was Master of the Boys at the Chapel Royal, Dublin.
Lyrics: Robert Burns
O life, how pleasing is thy morning,
Young Fancy's rays the hills adorning;
Cold pausing Caution's lessons scorning.
We frisk away
Like schoolboys at th'expected warning,
To joy and play.
We wander here, we wander there,
We eye the rose upon the brier,
Unmindful that the thorn is near
Among the leaves.
And though the puny wound appear,
Short time it grieves.
O life, how pleasing is thy morning,
Young Fancy's rays the hills adorning;
Cold pausing Caution's lessons scorning.
We frisk away
Like schoolboys at th'expected warning,
To joy and play.
We wander here, we wander there,
We eye the rose upon the brier,
Unmindful that the thorn is near
Among the leaves.
And though the puny wound appear,
Short time it grieves.