The Wood Nymph
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A glint of her hair or a flash of her shoulder —
That is the most I can boast to have seen,
Then all is lost as the shadows enfold her,
Forest glades making a screen of their green,
Could I cast off all the cares of tomorrow— Could I forget all the fret of today
Then, my heart free from the burdens I borrow,
Nature’s chaste spirit her face would display.
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