Now, while the birds thus sing a joyous song, |
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And while the young lambs bound |
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As to the tabor's sound, |
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To me alone there came a thought of grief: |
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A timely utterance gave that thought relief, |
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And I again am strong: |
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The cataracts blow their trumpets from the steep; |
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No more shall grief of mine the season wrong; |
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I hear the echoes through the mountains throng, |
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The winds come to me from the fields of sleep, |
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And all the earth is gay; |
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Land and sea |
30
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Give themselves up to jollity, |
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And with the heart of May |
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Doth every beast keep holiday;?/font> |
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Thou Child of Joy, |
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Shout round me, let me hear thy shouts, thou happy |
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Shepherd-boy! |
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