V. _To a Friend who sent me some Roses._
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s late I rambled in the happy fields,What time the sky-lark shakes the tremulous dewFrom his lush clover covert;--when anewAdventurous knights take up their dinted shields:I saw the sweetest flower wild nature yields,A fresh-blown musk-rose; 'twas the first that threwIts sweets upon the summer: graceful it grewAs is the wand that queen Titania wields.And, as I feasted on its fragrancy,I thought the garden-rose it far excell'd:But when, O Wells! thy roses came to meMy sense with their deliciousness was spell'd:Soft voices had they, that with tender pleaWhisper'd of peace, and truth, and friendliness unquell'd.
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