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- THAT is work of waste and ruin--
- Do as Charles and I are doing!
- Strawberry-blossoms, one and all,
- We must spare them--here are many:
- Look at it--the flower is small,
- Small and low, though fair as any:
- Do not touch it! summers two
- I am older, Anne, than you.
- Pull the primrose, sister Anne!
- Pull as many as you can.
- --Here are daisies, take your fill;
- Pansies, and the cuckoo-flower:
- Of the lofty daffodil
- Make your bed, or make your bower;
- Fill your lap, and fill your bosom;
- Only spare the strawberry-blossom!
- Primroses, the Spring may love them--
- Summer knows but little of them:
- Violets, a barren kind,
- Withered on the ground must lie;
- Daisies leave no fruit behind
- When the pretty flowerets die;
- Pluck them, and another year
- As many will be blowing here.
- God has given a kindlier power
- To the favoured strawberry-flower.
- Hither soon as spring is fled
- You and Charles and I will walk;
- Lurking berries, ripe and red,
- Then will hang on every stalk,
- Each within its leafy bower;
- And for that promise spare the flower!
- William Wordsworth
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