Now the rosy morn appearing Floods with light the dazzled heaven; And the schoolboy groans on hearing That eternal clock strike seven: - Now the waggoner is driving Towards the fields his clattering wain; Now the bluebottle, reviving, Buzzes down his native pane.
Charles Stuart Calverley
The farmer's daughter hath soft brown hair (Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese) And I met with a ballad, I can't say where, That wholly consisted of lines like these.
hair cheese eggs daughter
Read not Milton, for he is dry; nor Shakespeare, for he wrote of common life.
life shakespeare read common
I've read in many a novel, that unless they've souls that grovel - Folks prefer in fact a hovel to your dreary marble halls.
fact read souls
Gabble o' the goose. Don't bugaboo-baby me!
light
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