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“ My little Boy, which like you more,"
“ And tell me, had you rather be,” I said, and held him by the arm, " At Kilve's smooth shoré by the green sea, “ Or here at Liswyn farm!”.
In careless mood he looked at me,
“ Now, little Edward, say why so ; « My little Edward, tell me why;"~ I cannot tell, I do not know."
Why this is strange," said I.
« For, here are woods, and green-hills warm : “ There surely must some reason be
Why you would change sweet Liswyn farm • For Kilve by the green sea."
At this, my Boy hung down his head,
Why, Edward, tell me why ?"
His head he raised there was in sight,
Then did the Boy his tongue unlock;
Oh dearest, dearest Boy !: my heart For better lore would seldom yearn, Could I but teach the hundredth part Of what from thee I learn,
my little boy to the person to whom they are addressed.
It is the first mild day of March :
There is a blessing in the air,
My Sister! ('tis a wish of mine)
Edward will come with you ;
pray, Put on with speed your woodland dress; And bring no book : for this one day We'll give to idleness.
No joyless forms shall regulate
Love, now an universal bírth,
One moment now may give us more