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Rh Bluhes, which uher in the morn of love, Sure as the red'ning eat foretels the day.

Her tender miles hall pay me with delight For many a bitter pang of jealous fear; For many an anxious day, and leeples night, For many a tifled igh, and ilent tear.

hall come, and bles my lone retreat; She does not corn the hepherd's lowly life; She will not bluh to leave the plendid eat, And own the title of a poor man's wife.

The imple knot hall bind her gather'd hair, The ruet garment clap her lovely breat: hall mix amongt the rural fair, By charms alone ditinguih'd from the ret. And