To feel once more upon them
The cooling splash of rain.
If all the world were music,
Our hearts would often long
For one sweet strain of silence,
To break the endless song.
If life were always merry,
Our souls would seek relief,
And rest from weary laughter
In the quiet arms of grief.
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Long ago Apollo called to Aristæus,youngest of the shepherds,Saying, ‘I will make you keeper of my bees.’Golden were the hives, and golden was the honey;golden, too, the music,Where the honey-makers hummed among the trees.Happy Aristæus loitered in the garden, wanderedin the orchard,Careless and contented, indolent and free;Lightly took his labour, lightly took his pleasure,till the…
Wordsworth, thy music like a river rolls
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‘Tis fine to see the Old World, and travel up and down
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Yes, it was like you to forget,
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When Stiivoren town was in its prime
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Oh, gallantly they fared forth in khaki and in blue,
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