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John Keats
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Daisy¡¦s song
The sun , with his great eye ,
Sees not so much as I ;
And the moon , all silver-proud .
Might as well be in a cloud .
And O the spring¢wthe spring !
I lead the life of a king !
Couch¡¦d in the leeming grass ,
I spy each pretty lass .
I look where no one dares ,
And I stare where no one stares ,
And when the night is nigh ,
Lamb bleat my lullaby .
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I cry your mercy
I cry your mercy¢wpity¢wlove ! ¢waye , love !
Merciful love that tantalized not ,
One-thoughted , never-wandering , guileless love ,
Unmask¡¦d and being seen¢wwithout a blot !
O ! let me have thee whole ,¢wall¢wall¢wbe mine !
That shape , like fairness , that sweet minor zest
Of love , your kiss ,¢wthose hands , those eyes divine ,
That warm , white , lucent million-pleased breast .
Yourself¢wyour soul¢win pity give me all ,
Withhold no atom¡¦s atom or I die ,
Or living on perhaps , your wretched thrall ,
Forget , in the mist of idle misery ,
Life¡¦ purposes ,¢wthe palate of my mind
Losing its gust , and my ambition blind !
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Bright Star
Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night
And watching, with eternal lids apart,
Like nature¡¦s patient, sleepless Eremite,
The moving waters at their priestlike task
Of pure ablution round earth¡¦s human shores,
Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask
Of snow upon the mountains and the moors¡X
No¡Xyet still stedfast, still unchangeable,
Pillow¡¦d upon my fair love¡¦s ripening breast,
To for ever its soft fall and swell,
Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,
Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,
And so live ever¡Xor else swoon to death.
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