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Have you seen
but a bright lily grow
Before rude hands have touched
it?
Have you marked but the fall of snow
Before
the soil hath smutched it?
Have you felt the wool of
beaver,
Or swan's down ever?
Or have smelt o' the
bud o' the brier,
Or the nard in the fire?
Or have
tasted the bag of the bee?
O so white, O so soft, O
so sweet is she!
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