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[I never saw a more delightful spot!—]

I never saw a more delightful spot!—
One might have lain there, when the days were hot,
Hours and hours—hark'ning to the sweet singers
Up in the leaves—twiddling one's thumbs and fingers—
Watching the sun-beams in that quiet scenery,
Spangling about the jaunty greenery,
And the small flies and gnats—that sort called midges,
Bite one confoundedly, raising long ridges
Upon one's skin.—Oh! it were sweet, most sweet,
As I before said, in the summer heat,
To lie there sprawling flat upon one's back,
Dozing and dreaming of one's—Zounds! what's that?—
Pshaw! a cockchafers—what was I saying?—
Oh; that would be delicious, thus a laying,
To dream of ------