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Of course the nightingale stays not
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The Year has closed while still I wear
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The Cuckoo,—I will wait till it sings, if it sing not
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The Cherry-flow'rs! for them alone
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Together with one blossom more
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Fast fall the silv'ry dews, albeit not yet
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it mildens, as the plum
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Awake! awake! I'll make of thee
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Lines to a Friend
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Nothing remaineth; for the snow
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