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Complete, I grow within a field
And pleasant pasture often yield;
Behead me once, a suitor then
Is quickly brought before your ken;
Behead again, I am a word
That on the cricket-ground is heard.
Restore my heads, cut off my tail,
To name a spice you’ll not then fail;
Behead me now, and you will find
The master passion left behind.
Put on my head, my tail restore,
Complete me as I was before,
My second letter take away,
An envelope I am, you’ll say;
But now curtail me just once more,
I am an inlet on the shore.