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Normale Version: Addressed to Wootton, the Spot of the Author's Nativity 2
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II

The breath of heaven, that over yonder trees
Passing, from thence a local tincture drew,
Here first upon my new-born body blew!
Oh, was there magic in the trembling breeze,
That could with such delicious softness seize
Each melting sense; and wake to music new;
And bear upon its wings a shadowy crew,
That only fancy's gifted vision sees?
Still round the sacred mansion do ye dwell,
Ye lovely fairy tribes, or are ye fled?
O once again renew the entrancing spell;
And over each raptured vein your pinions spread!
Bliss above earth were mine, could I once more
Those dear delusions of the soul restore!