Fret not with that impatient hoof, snuff not the breezy wind, The further that thou fliest now, so far am I behind; The stranger hath thy bridle-rein--thy master hath his gold-- Fleet-limbed and beautiful. [Please select]
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What time the pea puts on the bloom, Thou fliest thy vocal vale, An annual guest in other lands, Another spring to hail. [Please select]
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