'Fair'

Blow , blow, Etesian gale!
L UCILLA'S cap is straight;
Fill fast the flowing sail
Of happy man and mate.

" What is it, Dear? — A plate?
Do taste this potted quail!"
Blow, blow, Etesian gale!
L UCILLA'S cap is straight.

" More sugar? — No? You're pale.
My Own, you work too late!
Ah me, if you should fail!
I'll see you to the gate." —
Blow, blow, Etesian gale!
L UCILLA'S cap is straight.
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