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Morning-Land

by
 Old English songs, you bring to me 
A simple sweetness somewhat kin 
To birds that through the mystery 
Of earliest morn make tuneful din, 
While hamlet steeples sleepily
At cock-crow chime out three and four, 
Till maids get up betime and go 
With faces like the red sun low 
Clattering about the dairy floor.

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