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The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed,

The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn,

No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.

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For them, no more the blazing hearth shall burn,

Or busy housewife ply her evening care ;

No children run to lisp their sire's return,

Or climb his knees, the envied kiss to share.

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