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- 1816
- HOW MANY BARDS GILD THE LAPSES OF TIME!
- by John Keats
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- How many bards gild the lapses of time!
- A few of them have ever been the food
- Of my delighted fancy,- I could brood
- Over their beauties, earthly, or sublime:
- And often, when I sit me down to rhyme,
- These will in throngs before my mind intrude:
- But no confusion, no disturbance rude
- Do they occasion; 'tis a pleasing chime.
- So the unnumber'd sounds that evening store;
- The songs of birds- the whisp'ring of the leaves-
- The voice of waters- the great bell that heaves
- With solemn sound,- and thousand others more,
- That distance of recognizance bereaves,
- Make pleasing music, and not wild uproar.
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- THE END
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