| Spring, spring has come, while yet the landscape bears |
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| A Youth once lov'd me, and his love I spurn'd |
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| For all my contriving, here I am again at the end of the year with my strip of matting |
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| He was the cuckoo. Say what other |
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| Where shine the stars that wend along |
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| The Maiden and Her Dog |
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| Too lightly woven must the garments be |
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| Behold the water for the tea |
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| Behold the wild-geese wending homeward |
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| There, by the crescent moon, the shark |
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