Trust me, sweet, Out of this silence yet I pick'd a welcome.
Wild-rose, Sweetbriar, Eglantine, All these pretty names are mine, And scent in every leaf is mine, And a leaf for all is mine, And the scent Oh, that's divine! Happy-sweet and pungent fine, Pure as dew, and pick'd as wine.leigh hunt
But now being lifted into high society, And having pick'd up several odds and ends Of free thoughts in his travels for variety, He deem'd, being in a lone isle, among friends, That without any danger of a riot, he Might for long lying make himself amends; And singing as he sung in his warm youth, Agree to a short armistice with truth.lord byron
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