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 With pen in hand, I shall contrast, 
The present moments with the past
And mark difference, not by grains, 
But weighed by feelings, joys and pains. 
Calm, tranquil—far from fashion’s gaze, 
Passed all my earliest, happy days 
Sweetly flew the golden hours, 
In St. Mary’s woodland bowers 
Or my father’s simple hall, 
Oped to whomsoe’er might call