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— William Cowper"What peaceful hours I once enjoy'd! How sweet their memory still! But they have left an aching void The world can never fill."
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Holding occasion by the hand, Not over nice 'twixt weed and flower, Waiving what none can understand, I make mine hour.
— John Vance Cheney
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O nightingale, that on yon bloomy spray Warblest at eve, when all the woods are still; Thou with fresh hope the lover's heart dost fill While the jolly hours lead on propitious May.
— John Milton
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