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with togas battle axes shields we made a dazzling show when we were roman soldiers with brutus in st jo
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for love of art not lust for gold consumed us years ago when we were roman soldiers with brutus in st jo
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my lips were sealed but that it seems quite proper you should know that rome was nowhere in it at philippi in st jo
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and after all my suffering it were not hard to show that i got my allopathic dose with brutus at st jo
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oh yes i travelled far and fast that night and i can show the scars of honest wounds i got with brutus in st jo
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by which you see that public taste has fallen mighty low since we fought as roman soldiers with brutus in st jo
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he was not dead i found him there the pan that i was after
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it is to hear his voices in every note and every line wherein the heart rejoices
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the wolf was very loath to stay but oh he could not get away
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darned if we know but all the same happy as larks are we and happier still we're going to be
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said lyman and frederick and jim
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so it was peter all day calling reminding and chiding peter neglected his work therefore that nagging at peter
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nor is it stated or guessed what was the trend of those volumes what thing soever it was done with a pen and a pencil wrought with a brain not a hoe surely 't was hostile to farming
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fudge on all readin they quoth or that's what's the ruin of peter
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peter derided these things held in such faith by the farmer scouted at magic and charms hooted at jonahs and hoodoos thinking and reading of books must have unsettled his reason
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surely enough he went out into the damp of the morning into the smudge that the witch spread over woodland and meadow into the fleecy gray pall brooding on hillside and valley
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laughing and scoffing he strode into that hideous vapor just as he said he would do just as he bantered and threatened ere they could fasten the door peter had done gone and done it
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wasting his time over books you see had unsettled his reason soddened his callow young brain with semi-pubescent paresis and his neglect of his chores hastened this evil condition
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this is the legend of old told in the tum-titty meter which the great poets prefer being less labor than rhyming nor have i further to say for the sad story is ended
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of deep humiliation for the sullen hired-girl of grief for mother hating to see things wasted so and of fortune for that little boy who pined to taste that dough
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it looked so sweet and yellow sure to taste it were no sin but oh how sister scolded if he stuck his finger in
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but oh how should i hail the death that brings that vinous grace to me
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but pretty girls and nice young men observe a proper silence when i chose to sing my lyrics to 'em
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this man loves farming that man law while this one follows pathways martial what moots it whither mortals turn
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so now good-by to drugs say i good-by thou phantom sorrow
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so speak the three as there they lay when lo the white stag sped that way
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on either margin our songs all done we move apart while she singeth ever taking the course of the stooping sun
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false false a random charge a blame undue wrest not fair reasoning to a crooked end false false as you are true
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be pale afar since still to me you shine and must while nature's eldest law shall hold ah there's the thought which makes his random line
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take courage quoth he and respect the mind your maker gave for good your fate fulfil the fate round many hearts your own to wind
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false path it cost me priceless years of life my well-beloved friend
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o shame they said such music is not meet go up like ganymede
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alas though ne'er for me those eagle wings stooped from their eyry proud
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but strain to reach it ay with wrestlings stout and hopes that even in the dark will grow and ploddings wary and slow
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and can i see this light it may be so but see it thus and thus my fathers said
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if god indeed kept secret couldst thou know or follow up the mighty artisan unless he willed it so
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that which i know and that which i divine alas have left thee out
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i have aspired to know the might of god as if the story of his love was furled nor sacred foot the grasses e'er had trod
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o man with eyes majestic after death whose feet have toiled along our pathways rough whose lips drawn human breath
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when i looked i dared not sigh: in the light of god's splendor with his daily blue and gold who am i what am i
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on that sultry august eve trouble had made me meek i was tired of my sorrow o so faint for it was double in the weight of its oppression that i could not speak
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with that he spread his white wings and swept across the water lit upon the hooded head and it and all went down and they laughed as they went under and i woke the old man's daughter
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o to be at least a cloud that near thee i might flow solemnly approach the mountain weep away my being o'er thee and veil thy breast with icicles and thy brow with snow
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m i'm hearty lass but warm the weather's warm i think 'tis mostly warm on market days
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m all but this pat that i put by for george he always loved my butter
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c but i want one to play with o i want a little yellow duck to take to bed
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f now granny if you'll hold the babe awhile 'tis time i took up willie to his crib
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george well mother 'tis a fortnight now or more since i set eyes on you
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g were not proud of them eh mother
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m i set store by mine 'tis true but then i had good cause
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f no he got his voice from you do use it george and send the child to sleep
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g ay of the purple grapes and crimson leaves but mother put your shawl and bonnet off
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and frances lass i brought some cresses in just wash them toast the bacon break some eggs and let's to supper shortly
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oft have i wooed sweet lettice white by daylight and by candlelight when we two were apart
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some better day come on apace and let me tell her face to face maiden thou hast my heart
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how gently rock yon poplars high against the reach of primrose sky with heaven's pale candles stored
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she sees them all sweet lettice white i'll e'en go sit again to-night beside her ironing-board
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turn back the cradle-quilt and lay him in and mother will you please to draw your chair the supper's ready
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yet had i but the past she cries and it was lost i would arise and comfort me some other wise
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we had a message long ago that like a river peace should flow and eden bloom again below
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that was the last hill of the chain and fair below i saw the plain that seemed cold cheer to reprimand
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half-drowned in sleepy peace it lay as satiate with the boundless play of sunshine in its green array
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i looked my thought would make its way fair is your child of face and limb the round blue eyes full sweetly shine
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a twelvemonths' child was at her side 'whose infant may that be ' i cried
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she rose amazed but cursed me too she could not hold such luck for true but gave him soon with small ado
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master good e'en to ye a woodman said who the low hedge was trimming with his shears
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in sooth a lyre and as the soft air played those branches stirred but did not disunite
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light it old sun wet it thou common dew that 'neath men's feet its image still may be while yet it waves above them living lyre like thee
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only a passing mist the heaven o'ershrouds it breaks it parts it drifts like scattered spars what lies behind it but the nightly stars
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gone said the poet and about to be forgotten: o how sad a fate is hers
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ah turret clock i would thy hand were hid behind yon towering maple-trees
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and had he friends one friend perhaps said he but for the rest i pray you let it be
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i will not speak i will not speak to thee my star and soon to be my lost lost star
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but shortly as there comes to most of us there came to him the need to quit his home to tell you why were simply hazardous
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peace peace he cried i lost thee but in truth there are worse losses than the loss of youth
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adieu the poet said my vanished star thy duty and thy happiness were one
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although he was her friend: but still that day where elm and hornbeam spread a towering dome she crossed the dells to her ancestral home
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love cannot cool the burning austral sand nor show the secret waters that lie hid in arid valleys of that desert land
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silent they rest in solemn salvatory sealed from the moth and the owl and the flitter-mouse each with his name on his brow
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'all the kings of the nations lie in glory every one in his own house then why not thou
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that i bring thee guard it long hide the light from buried eyes hide it lest the dead arise
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no more need o mad mistake with repentance in its wake
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what change has made the pastures sweet and reached the daisies at my feet and cloud that wears a golden hem
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this lovely world the hills the sward they all look fresh as if our lord but yesterday had finished them
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and here's the field with light aglow how fresh its boundary lime-trees show and how its wet leaves trembling shine
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between their trunks come through to me the morning sparkles of the sea below the level browsing line
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i see the pool more clear by half than pools where other waters laugh up at the breasts of coot and rail
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there as she passed it on her way i saw reflected yesterday a maiden with a milking-pail
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but high she held her comely head i cannot heed it now she said for carrying of the milking-pail
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from the clear pool her face had fled it rested on my heart instead reflected when the maid was gone
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with happy youth and work content so sweet and stately on she went right careless of the untold tale
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each step she took i loved her more and followed to her dairy door the maiden with the milking-pail
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fair shine the blue that o'er her spreads green be the pastures where she treads the maiden with the milking-pail
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and let alighting jackdaws fleet adown it open-winged and pass till they could touch with outstretched feet
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she had not feared as i divine because she had not hoped alas
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the sorrow of it for that sign came but to pass
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red rocks that under waters show blue reaches and a sailing skiff were spread below
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ah why to that which needs it not methought should costly things be given
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sure home is best ' the son replied 'i have no home
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'the perfect face and shed on it a charm half feeling half surprise and brim with dreams the exquisite
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