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First Line: Though singing but the shy and sweet
Last Line: Be yours all other bliss!
Subject(s): Contentment; Singing & Singers; Songs


THOUGH singing but the shy and sweet
Untrod by multitudes of feet,
Songs bounded by the brook and wheat,
I have not failed in this,
The only lure my woodland note,
To win all England's whitest throat!
O bards in gold and fire who wrote,
Be yours all other bliss!





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