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And the lark, to meet the morn,
Soars beyond the shepherd's sight.

IV.

From the low-roof d cottage ridge,
See the chatt'ring swallow spring;

Darting through the one-arch'd bridge.
Quick she dips her dappled wing.

V.

Now the pine-tree's waving top,
Gently greets the morning gale -

Kidlings, now, begin to crop
Daisies, on the dewy dale.

VI.

From the balmy sweet, uncloy'd,
(Restless till her taste be done)

Now the busy bee's employ'd
Sipping dew besore the sun.

VII.

Trickling through the crevic'd rock,
Where the limpid stream distils,

Sweet resreshment waits the flock
When 'tis sun-drove srom the hills.

VIII.

Colin's sor the promis'd corn
(Ere the harvest hopes are ripe)

Anxious;—whilst the huntsman's horn,
Boldly sounding drowns his pipe.

IX.

Sweet,—O sweet, the warbling throng
On the white emblofsom'd spray!

Nature's universal song
Echos to the rising day.

NOON.

x.

Fervid on the glitt'ring flood,
Now the noontide radiance glows:

Drooping o'er its insant bud,
Not a dew-drop's lest the rose.

XL

By the brook the shepherd dines,
From the sierce meridian heat

Shelter'd by the branching pines,
Pendent o'er his graffy seat.

XII.

Now the flock sorsakes the glade,
Where uncheck'd the sun-beams sall;

Sure to sind a pleasing shade
By the ivy'd abbey wall.

XIII.

Echo in her airy round,

O'er the river, rock, and hill

Cannot catch a single sound,
Save the clack os yonder mill.

XIV.

Cattle court the zephyrs bland,
Where the streamlet wanders cool;

Or with languid silence stand
Midway in the marshy pool.

XV.

But srom mountain, dell, or streamy
Not a flutt'ring zephyr springs:

Fearsul least the noon-tide beam
Scorch its sost, its silken wings.

XVI.

Not a leas has leave to stir,

Nature's lull'd—serene—and stills Quiet e'en the shepherd's cur,

Sleeping on the heath-clad hill.

XVII.

Languid is the landscape round,
Till the sresh descending shower,

Gratesul to the thirsty ground,
Raises ev'ry sainting flower.

XVIII.

Now the hill—the hedge—is green, Now the warblers' throats in tune;

filithsome is the verdant scene,

Brighten'd by the beams os Noon!

E V E N I N

XIX.

O'er the heath the heiser strays
Free;—(the surrow'd talk is done)

Now the village windows blaze,
Burnish'd by the setting sun.

XX.

Now he sets behind the hill,

Sinking srom a golden sky;
Can the pencil's mimic skill

Copy the resulgent dye f
XXI.

Trudging as the plowmen go,
(To the smoaking hamlet bound)

Giant-like their shadows grow,
Lengthen'd o'er the level ground.

XXII.

Where the rising sorest spreads

Shelter sor the lordly dome,
To their high-built airy beds,

See the rooks returning home:
XXIII.

As the lark with vary'd tune,

Carols to the evening loud; Mark the mild resplendent moon,

Breaking through a parted cloud!

XXIV.

Now the hermit howlet peeps
From the barn, or twisted brake;

And the blue mist flowly creeps,
Curling on the silver lake.

XXV.

As the trout in speckled pride,
Playsul srom its bosom springs;

To the banks, a rustled tide
Verges in successive rings.

XXVI.

Tripping through the silken grass,
O'er the path-divided dale,

Mark the rose-complexion'd lass
With her well-pois'd milken pail.

XXVII.

Linnets with unnumber'd notes, And the cuckow bird with two,

Tuning sweet their mellow throats Bid the setting sun adieu.

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