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Where thick thy primrose blossoms play, Lovely and innocent as they,
O'er coppice lawns and dells, In bands the rm-al children stray. To pluck thy nectar'd bells ; —
Whose simple sweets, with cm'ious skill. The frugal cottage dames distil,
Nor envy France the vine, While many a festal cup they fill
With Britain's homely wine.
Unchanging still from year to year. Like stars returning in their sphere,
With undiminish'd rays. Thy vernal constellations cheer
The dawn of lengthening days.
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