22 lines
904 B
Plaintext
22 lines
904 B
Plaintext
1816
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HOW MANY BARDS GILD THE LAPSES OF TIME!
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by John Keats
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How many bards gild the lapses of time!
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A few of them have ever been the food
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Of my delighted fancy,- I could brood
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Over their beauties, earthly, or sublime:
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And often, when I sit me down to rhyme,
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These will in throngs before my mind intrude:
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But no confusion, no disturbance rude
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Do they occasion; 'tis a pleasing chime.
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So the unnumber'd sounds that evening store;
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The songs of birds- the whisp'ring of the leaves-
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The voice of waters- the great bell that heaves
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With solemn sound,- and thousand others more,
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That distance of recognizance bereaves,
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Make pleasing music, and not wild uproar.
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THE END
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