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Bury the Great Duke..

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By the old Moulmein Pagoda, lookin' eastward to the sea.

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Earth has not anything to show more fair.
Ethereal minstrel! pilgrim of the sky!.
Eve, with her basket, was..

Even such is time, that takes in trust
Every night my prayers I say..

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St. Agnes' Eve-Ah, bitter chill it was!.

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Summer set lip to earth's bosom bare,.

Say not of me that weakly I declined...
Say not the struggle nought availeth.
Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness.
Shall I sonnet-sing you about myself?..
She dwelt among the untrodden ways.
She walks in beauty, like the night.

So all day long the noise of battle roll'd.
So now is come our joyfulst feast..
Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er...
Sombre and rich, the skies..
Souls of poets dead and gone,.

Strange fits of passion have I known.
Strewn on her roses, roses.

Such was the rise of this prodigious fire.

Sunset and evening star..

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The 'eathen in 'is blindness bows down to wood an' stone.

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Vanity, saith the preacher, vanity!

Waken, lords and ladies gay..

Well! if the Bard was weather-wise, who made.
We look for her that sunlike stood..
"What, you are stepping westward?".
What is he buzzing in my ears?..
When as in silks my Julia goes

When children are playing alone on the green.
When I consider how my light is spent..
When I have fears that I may cease to be..

When I was sick and lay a-bed.

When love with unconfinèd wings..

When maidens such as Hester die.

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"Will you walk a little faster?" said a whiting to a snail.

With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb'st the skies!.

Yearly, with ten and rifle, our careless white men go.
Yet if some voice that man could trust..
Yet once more, O ye Laurels, and once more.

You are carried in a basket.

"You are old, Father William," the young man said.
You meaner beauties of the night..

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