| Ye blessed Creatures, I have heard the call |
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| Ye to each other make; I see |
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| The heavens laugh with you in your jubilee; |
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| My heart is at your festival, |
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| My head hath its coronal, |
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| The fulness of your bliss, I feel---feel it all. |
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| O evil day! if I were sullen |
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| While Earth herself is adorning, |
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| This sweet May-morning, |
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| And the children are culling |
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| On every side, |
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| In a thousand valleys far and wide, |
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| Fresh flowers; while the sun shines warm, |
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| And the babe leaps up on his mother's arm:?/font> |
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| I hear, I hear, with joy I hear! |
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| ---But there's a tree, of many, one, |
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| A single field which I have look'd upon, |
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| Both of them speak of something that is gone: |
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| The Pansy at my feet |
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| Doth the same tale repeat: |
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| Whither is fled the visionary gleam? |
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| Where is it now, the glory and the dream? |
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