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Where teachers make the heartless, trembling set

Of pupils suffer for their own regret;

Where winter's cold, attack'd by one poor fire,

Chills the fair child, commanded to retire;

She felt it keenly in the morning air,

Keenly she felt it at the evening prayer.

More pleasant summer; but then walks were made

Not a sweet ramble, but a slow parade;

They moved by pairs beside the hawthorn-hedge,