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Great Things

 

Sweet cyder is a great thing,

     A great thing to me,

Spinning down to Weymouth town

     By Ridgway thirstily,

And maid and mistress summoning

     Who tend the hostelry:

O cyder is a great thing,

     A great thing to me!

 

The dance it is a great thing,

     A great thing to me,

With candles lit and partners fit

     For night-long revelry;

And going home when day-dawning

     Peeps pale upon the lea:

O dancing is a great thing,

     A great thing to me!

 

Love is, yea, a great thing,

     A great thing to me,

When, having drawn across the lawn

     In darkness silently,

A figure flits like one a-wing

     Out from the nearest tree:

O love is, yes, a great thing,

     A great thing to me!

 

Will these be always great things,

     Great things to me? . . .

Let it befall that One will call,

     "Soul, I have need of thee":

What then?  Joy-jaunts, impassioned flings,

     Love, and its ecstasy,

Will always have been great things,

     Great things to me!

 

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