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I / the birds have hid, the winds are low, …
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Oak leaves are big as the mouse’s ear, / So, farmer, go plant. But the frost— …
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(In Memoriam, May 30) / I. …
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Who drives the horses of the sun / Shall lord it but a day; …
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The skilful listener, he, methinks, may hear / The grass blades clash in sunny field together, …
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Dost deem him weak that owns his strength is tried? / Nay, we may safely lean on him that grieves: …
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Whither leads this pathway, little one?— / It runs just on and on, is never done. …
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“Let us a little permit Nature to take her own way: she better understands her own affairs than we.” / —MONTAIGNE, Of Experience. …