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Moonlight in winter, and I draw
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If earth but ceas'd to offer my sight
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Oh! how its young ones must be waiting
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When falls the snow, lo! ev'ry herb and tree
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Oh! snowstorm, at whose blast the birds
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The Beggar's Complaint
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Now hid from sight are great Mount Fusi's fires
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A Show'r, and skill of every sort
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No Tidings
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I ask'd my soul where springs th' ill-omened seed
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