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And witness, dear companion of my walks,
But genuine, and art partner of them all.
How oft upon yon eminence our pace
Has slackened to a pause, and we have borne
The ruffling wind, scarce conscious that it blew,
And still unsated, dwelt upon the scene!
Thence with what pleasure have we just discerned
His labouring team, that swerved not from the track,
Of hedge-row beauties numberless, square tower,
Groves, heaths, and smoking villages, remote.
I still remember, nor without regret
How oft, my slice of pocket-store consumed,
I fed on scarlet hips and stony haws,
No SOFA then awaited my return,
Their length and colour from the locks they spare;
That mounts the stile with ease, or leaps the fence,
Scenes must be beautiful, which daily viewed
COWPER. [From "The Task."]