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That, should you close your eyes, you might almost Forget it was not day.
A' most gentle Maidi Who dwelleth in her hospitable home Hard by the Castle, and at latest eve (Even like a Lady vowed and dedicate: To something more than nature in the grove) Glides through the pathways; she knows all their
notes, That gentle Maid! and oft, a' moment's space, What time the moon was lost behind a cloud, Hath heard a pause of silence : till the Moon Emerging; hath awakened earth and sky With one sensation, and those wakeful Birds Have all burst forth with choral minstrelsy, As if one quick and sudden Gale had swept An hundred airy harps! And she hath watched Many a Nightingale perch giddily On blosmy twig still swinging from the breeze,
And to that motion tune his wanton song,
Like tipsy Joy that reels with tossing head.
Farewell, O Warbler! till to-morrow eve,
Suspends his sobs, and laughs most silently,