Pastoralia
'Neath verdant bowers all ensconced,
By nature's beauty all entranced,
On fields to all horizons gazing,
Cattle roundabout all grazing,
Sat the master, weary, lazing,
Lazing here in Tuscany.
Sitting in sweet atrophy,
Reading antic philosophy,
'Neath the verdant bowers, sipping,
From an earthen wine-cup, dripping,
On to Spring's first new buds, thirsting,
Soon to be fresh flowers, bursting,
Bursting into panoply.
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