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Oh dearest, dearest boy ! my
heart For better lore would seldom yearn Could I but teach the hundredth part Of what from thee I learn.
Written at a small distance from my House, and sent by
my little boy to the person to whom they are addressed.
It is the first mild day of March :
There is a blessing in the air,
grass in the green field.
My Sister! ('tis a wish of mine)
Edward will come with
pray, Put on with speed your woodland dress, And bring no book, for this one day We'll give to idleness.
No joyless forms shall regulate
Love, now an universal birth,
One moment now may give us more
Some silent laws our hearts may make,
take Our temper from to-day.
And from the blessed power that rolls
Then come, my sister ! come, I pray, With speed put on your woodland dress, And bring no book ; for this one day We'll give to idleness.
The FEMALE VAGRANT.
By Derwent's side my Father's cottage stood,