VII.
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Solitude! if I must with thee dwell,Let it not be among the jumbled heapOf murky buildings; climb with me the steep,--Nature's observatory--whence the dell,Its flowery slopes, its river's crystal swell,May seem a span; let me thy vigils keep'Mongst boughs pavillion'd, where the deer's swift leapStartles the wild bee from the fox-glove bell.But though I'll gladly trace these scenes with thee,Yet the sweet converse of an innocent mind,Whose words are images of thoughts refin'd,Is my soul's pleasure; and it sure must beAlmost the highest bliss of human-kind,When to thy haunts two kindred spirits flee.
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