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It is the first mild day of March :
There is a blessing in the air,
My Sister ! ('tis a wish of mine)
Edward will come with you, and 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,
year to come may 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 OLD HUNTSMAN,
with an incident in which he was
In the sweet shire of Cardigan,
he is three score and ten, But others say he's eighty.
A long blue livery-coat has he,
No man like him the horn could sound,
say the least, four counties round Had heard of Simon Lee; His master's dead, and no one now Dwells in the hall of Ivor ; Men, dogs, and horses, all are dead; He is the sole survivor.