“A tuft of evening primroses, O’er which the mind may hover till it dozes;
O’er which it well might take a pleasant sleep, But that ’tis ever startled by the leap
Of buds into ripe flowers”.
By John Keats
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“A tuft of evening primroses, O’er which the mind may hover till it dozes;
O’er which it well might take a pleasant sleep, But that ’tis ever startled by the leap
Of buds into ripe flowers”.
By John Keats
