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VIII.
THE SUMMER'S CALL.
Come away! the sunny hours
Woo thee far to founts and bowers!
O'er the very waters now,
In their play,
Flowers are shedding beauty's glow—
Come away!
Where the lily's tender gleam
Quivers on the glancing stream—
Come away!
All the air is filled with sound,
Soft, and sultry, and profound;
