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III. NATURE.
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I.
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New feet within my garden go,
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New fingers stir the sod;
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A troubadour upon the elm
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Betrays the solitude.
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New children play upon the green,
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New weary sleep below;
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And still the pensive spring returns,
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And still the punctual snow!
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II.
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MAY-FLOWER.
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Pink, small, and punctual,
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Aromatic, low,
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Covert in April,
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Candid in May,
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Dear to the moss,
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Known by the knoll,
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Next to the robin
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In every human soul.
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Bold little beauty,
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Bedecked with thee,
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Nature forswears
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Antiquity.
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III.
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WHY?
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The murmur of a bee
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A witchcraft yieldeth me.
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If any ask me why,
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'T were easier to die
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Than tell.
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The red upon the hill
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Taketh away my will;
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If anybody sneer,
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Take care, for God is here,
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That's all.
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The breaking of the day
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Addeth to my degree;
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If any ask me how,
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Artist, who drew me so,
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Must tell!
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IV.
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Perhaps you'd like to buy a flower?
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But I could never sell.
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If you would like to borrow
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Until the daffodil
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Unties her yellow bonnet
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Beneath the village door,
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Until the bees, from clover rows
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Their hock and sherry draw,
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Why, I will lend until just then,
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But not an hour more!
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V.
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The pedigree of honey
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Does not concern the bee;
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A clover, any time, to him
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Is aristocracy.
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VI.
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A SERVICE OF SONG.
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Some keep the Sabbath going to church;
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I keep it staying at home,
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With a bobolink for a chorister,
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And an orchard for a dome.
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Some keep the Sabbath in surplice;
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I just wear my wings,
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And instead of tolling the bell for church,
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Our little sexton sings.
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God preaches, -- a noted clergyman, --
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And the sermon is never long;
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So instead of getting to heaven at last,
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I'm going all along!
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VII.
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The bee is not afraid of me,
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I know the butterfly;
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