Spring Posy
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unning to meet us came neighbours’ daughters nigh,Fluting like birds, and calicoed bright and clean; And beautiful else had been their bosoms poutering by!“But ye are a cloud,” I said, “too much between.” I was waylaid in a depth of woody grot: Was it a fox in his fern, was it a wing’s blue sheen? In her widow’s weed the balsam? But how ye prosperednot, :
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