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I heard a Stockdove sing or sayHis homely tale, this very day.His voice was buried among trees,Yet to be come at by the breeze:He did not cease; but coo'd—and coo'd;And somewhat pensively he woo'd:He sang of love with quiet blending,Slow to begin, and never ending;Of serious faith, and inward glee;That was the Song, the Song for me!
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