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Far other worlds, and other seas;

Annihilating all that's made

To a green thought in a green shade.

Here at the fountain's sliding foot

Or at some fruit-tree's mossy root,

Casting the body's vest aside

My soul into the boughs does glide;

There, like a bird it sists and sings,

Then whets and claps its silver wings,

And, till prepared for longer flight,

Waves in its plumes the various light

Such was that happy Garden-state

While man thre walk'd without a mate:

After a place so pure and sweet,

What other help could yet be meet!

But 'twas beyond a mortal's share

To wander solitary there:

Two paradises 'twere in one,

To live in Paradise alone.

How well the skilful gardener drew

Of flowers and herbs this dial new!

Where, from above, the milder sun

Does through a fragrant zodiac run:

And, as it works, th' industrious bee

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