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'O TETTIE.

Anacreontics, CCCXLVII. - (Paraphrase.)

HAPPY little creature!

For I think you such,

Clinging in the tree-tops,

Twigs within your clutch;

Now a dew-drop sipping;

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Now leave off, and sing,

Pouring forth shrill whistles,

O, how like a king!

All the fields you gaze on,

These for you exist;

Yours the season's bringings.

Whatsoe'er you list.

You the farmer's darling,

Naught from him you take;

Welcomed by all mortals,

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