| O solitude, my sweetest choice!
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| O solitude
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| O solitude my sweetest, sweetest choice
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| Places devoted to the night,
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| Remote from tumult and from noise,
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| How ye my restless thoughts delight!
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| O solitude
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| O solitude, my sweetest, sweetest choice!
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| O heav’ns! |
| What content is mine
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| To see those trees, which have appear’d
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| From the nativity of time,
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| And which all ages have rever’d,
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| To look today as fresh and green
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| To look today as fresh and green
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| As when their beauties were first seen.
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| O, how agreeable a sight
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| These hanging mountains do appear,
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| Which th' unhappy would invite
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| To finish all their sorrows here,
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| When their hard, their hard fate makes them endure
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| Such woes, such woes as only death can cure.
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| O, how I solitude adore!
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| O, how I solitude adore!
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| That element of noblest wit,
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| Where I have learnt, where I have learnt
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| Apollo’s lore,
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| Without the pains, the pains to study it.
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| For thy sake I in love am grown
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| With what thy fancy, thy fancy does pursue;
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| But when I think upon my own,
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| I hate it, I hate it for that reason too, |
| Because it needs must hinder me
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| From seeing, from seeing and from serving thee.
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| I solitude,
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| O my solitude adore! |