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And I made a rural pen,

And I stain'd the water clear,
And I wrote my happy songs
Every child may joy to hear.

W. Blake



Now the bright morning star, day's harbinger,
Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her
The flowry May, who from her green lap throws
The yellow cowslip, and the pale primrose.

Hail, bounteous May, that doth inspire
Mirth and youth and warm desire !
Woods and groves are of thy dressing,

Hill and daie doth boast thy blessing.
Thus we salute thee with our early song,
And welcome thee, and wish thee long.

7. Milton



Now the hungry lion roars,

And the wolf behowls the moon;
Whilst the heavy ploughman snores,

All with weary task foredone.
Now the wasted brands do glow,

Whilst the scritch owl, scritching loud,

Puts the wretch that lies in woe,

In remembrance of a shroud.
Now it is the time of night

That the graves, all gaping wide,
Every one lets forth his sprite,

In the churchway paths to glide :
And we fairies, that do run,

By the triple Hecate's team,
From the presence of the sun,

Following darkness like a dream,
Now are frolic ; not a mouse
Shall disturb this hallowed house :
I am sent with broom before,
To sweep the dust behind the door.
Through the house give glimmering light;

By the dead and drowsy fire,
Every elf and fairy sprite,

Hop as light as bird from brier ;
And this ditty after me,
Sing and dance it trippingly.
First rehearse this song by rote,
To each word a warbling note,
Hand in hand, with fairy grace,
We will sing, and bless this place.

W. Shakespeare


ANSWER TO A CHILD'S QUESTION Do you ask what the birds say? The sparrow, the

dove, The linnet, and thrush say “I love, and I love !'

In the winter they're silent, the wind is so strong ; What it says I don't know, but it sings a loud song. But green leaves, and blossoms, and sunny warm

weather, And singing and loving--all come back together. But the lark is so brimful of gladness and love, The green fields below him, the blue sky above, That he sings, and he sings, and forever sings he, 'I love my Love, and my Love loves me.'

S.T. Coleridge

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I come from haunts of coot and hern,

I make a sudden sally,
And sparkle out among the fern,

To bicker down a valley.

By thirty hills I hurry down,

Or slip between the ridges,
By twenty thorps, a little town,
And half a hundred bridges.

Till last by Philip's farm I flow

To join the brimming river,
For men may come, and men may go,

But I go on forever.

I chatter over stony ways,

In little sharps and trebles,
I bubble into eddying bays,

I babble on the pebbles.


I murmur under moon and stars

In brambly wildernesses ;
I linger by my shingly bars;

I loiter round my cresses ;

And out again I curve and flow

To join the brimming river,
For men may come, and men may go,
But I go on forever.

A. Tennyson



They glide upon their endless way,

For ever calm, for ever bright; No blind hurry, no delay,

Mark the Daughters of the Night : They follow in the track of Day,

In divine delight.

Shine on, sweet orbed Souls for aye,

For ever calm, for ever bright : We ask not whither lies your way,

Nor whence ye came, nor what your light.. Be-still a dream throughout the day, A blessing through the night.

B. Cornwall

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