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Robert Bloomfield: Quotes

E’en as the Red-breast shelt’ring in a bower,
Mourns the short darkness of a passing Shower,
Then, while the azure sky extends around,
Darts on a worm that breaks the moisten’d ground,
And mounts the dripping fence, with joy elate,
And shares the prize triumphant with his mate;

Walter And Jane: Or, The Poor Blacksmith — How little of outward Good suffices for Happiness.