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The gentle swan with graceful pride Her glossy? 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 viewed Which hold her callow young Tho dear to her maternal heart The genial? brood may be Yet not as dear the thousandth

As Emma is to