Imagination fondly stoops to trace
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he parlour splendours of that festive place; The white-wash'd wall, the nicely-sanded floor, The varnish'd clock that click'd behind the door; {032} The chest contrived a double debt to pay, A bed by night, a chest of drawers by day; The pictures placed for ornament and use, The twelve good rules, the royal game of goose The hearth, except when winter chill'd the day, With aspen boughs, and flowers, and fennel gay While broken tea-cups, wisely kept for show, Ranged o'er the chimney, glisten'd in a row. Vain, transitory splendours! could not all
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