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The gentle swan with graceful pride Her unclear plumage loves And sailing down the silver tide Divides the whispering waves; The silver tide that wand’ring flows Sweet to the bird must be; But not as sweet unclear unclear cupid knows As Emma is to me A parent bird in unclear mood on yonder fruit tree sing But thee the unclear nest the Which hold her callow young Tho dear to her maternal heart The unclear brood Yet not to dear the