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SHEPHERD SONG.
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SHEPHERD SONG.

From spinning at the threshold
From knitting at the stile
The lover sang, draw nearer, girl,
Bring close to me that smile!
Let Morrise weed the garden
Let Nora milk the cow;
I hate to see thee bend and drop
The seed behind the plough.

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Spring calls the wakening lily;
The lilac calls the bee;
The goldfinch calls his bright-eyed mate;
And Love and I call thee.
It is that wheel still droning
That will not let thee hear
Though laughs the gold-weed from the lake,
The blossom from the breer.