SONG
{"newspaper_name": "The Wilmingtonian.", "edition": "01", "page": "p1", "byline": ""}
{"character_count": 573, "word_count": 106, "ccnet_language_score": [0.9187999963760376], "ccnet_perplexity": [2299.199951171875], "fasttext_language": ["en"]}
Soft as yon silver ray that sleeps


Upon the oceans trembling tide,
Saft as the air that lightly sweeps
j .Yon sail that swells in stately pride,
Soft as the snrges stealing note


That dies along The distant shores,
Or warbled strain that sinks remote


So soft the sigh my bosom po,lrs,
True as the moon to Cyntlia's ray


True as the vessel to the breeze
True as the soul to music's sway


Or music to Venetian seas.


solt as yon silver beams that sleep


Upon the oceans trembling breast,
so sot, so true fond love shall weep,


So soft, so true with thee shall rest.