A broad place.I find hope and a hasty thornaccording to custom.A prince and all his nobleslook over my papersin my mind.The state stands for fearfor my picturesmy buying.
I WALKED when the wood was full of minstrelsy.A pretty prince came down to talk with me.He spoke so kindly, and quite loud:Then he was gone, quick as high cloud.That he came here is such a happy thing,I sit quite still in the wood and sing.
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