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To keep Mrs. Keats in French ribbon.
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I cherish your talent. I truly do.
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Then allow me my happiness, for I am writing again.
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my heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains
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my sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk
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or emptied some dull opiate to the drains
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one minute past, and lethe- wards had sunk
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tis not through envy of thy happy lot
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but being too happy in thine happiness
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that thou, light- winged dryad of the trees
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in some melodious plot of beechen green, and shadows numberless
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singest of summer in full- throated ease