The lord of day retired, when every bird,
The plumy traveller of unbounded space,
Claim’d the short hour of rest,

could Labour’s
Shake from their freckled brows the evening dew,
And homeward, blithesomely, return to quaff
The honey’d cup of joy?
Could they suspire
Health’s breezy hour; on their own cultured plains
Reap the full harvest, pen their fleecy store ;

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