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"What ails y oil. Child ?" she sobbed, "Look here!"
I saw it in the wheel entangled,
A weather beaten Rag as e'er
From any garden scare-crow dangled.
'Twas twisted betwixt nave and spoke;
"And whither are you going, Child,
She sate like one past all relief;
And I to Durham, Sir, belong."
The chaise drove on; our journey's end
Up to the Tavern-door we post;
RESOLUTION AND INDEPENDENCE.
There was a roaring in the wind all night;
All things that love the sun are out of doors;
The sky rejoices in the morning's birth;
The grass is bright with rain-drops; on the moon
The Hare is running races in her mirth;
And with her feet she from the plashy earth
Raises a mist; which, glittering in the sun,
Runs with her all the way, wherever she doth run.
I was a Traveller then upon the moor;
I saw the Hare that rac'd about with joy;
I heard the woods, and distant waters, roar;
Or heard them not, as happy as a Boy:
The pleasant season did my heart employ:
My old remembrances went from me wholly;
And all the ways of men, so vain and melancholy.
But, as it sometimes chanceth, from the might