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They fang, as blithe as finches fing
That flutter loose on golden wing,

And frolio where they lift;
Strangers to liberty, 'tis true,
But that delight they never knew,

And, therefore, never miss’d.

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The open windows seem'd to invite
The freeman to a farewell flight;

But Tom was still confin'd;
And Dick, although his way was clear,
Was much too gen'rous and sincere

To leave his friend behind.

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