Page:Pleasant Memories of Pleasant Lands.djvu/189

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And now that lonely cottage on the moor Hath no sweet visitant of earthly hope, To cheer its toiling inmates. Habit-led, They sow, and reap, and spread the daily board, And steep their bread in tears.

God grant them grace

To take this chastisement, like those who win A more enduring mansion, from the blast * That leaveth house and home so desolate.

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