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SONNET II. TO MY BROTHER.
BESIDE some hawthorn tree I ween you sit,Dear bard! upon your three-legged chair, or, now,
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Beneath some spreading oak, while neighbouring cow,
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With chanticleer, anon in plumage gay,
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Enrich by turns thy soft mellifluous lay.
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Soft as the mole that burrows near thy feet,
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Of sultry dog-days, and as woodbine sweet;
But may no elfin sister faithless prove,
And ah! thy three-legg'd chair unwittingly remove.
Malvern Hills | ||