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To yield a placid sky, to bid the trees Assume the lively verdure of their leaves: The vine to bud, and, joyful, in its shoots, Foretell the approaching vintage of its fruits: The ripen'd corn to sing, while all around Full riv'lets glide; and flowers deck the ground: then the multitude of cattle, fit part for food, part for tilling the ground, others for carrying us, or for clothing us; and man himself, made, as it were, on purpose to contemplate the heavens and the Gods, and to pay adoration to them: lastly, the whole earth, and wide extending seas, given to man's use.
Or if dreams your fancy move, Hear it whisper me and love; Then in pity to the swain, Who must heartless else remain, Soft as gentle dewy show'rs, Slow descend on April flow'rs; Soft as gentle riv'lets glide, Steal unnoticed to my side; If the gem you have to spare, Take your own and place it there.
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