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Lo, as a careful housewife runs to catchOne of her feathered creatures broke away,Sets down her babe, and makes all swift dispatchIn pursuit of the thing she would have stayWhilst her neglected child holds her in chase,Cries to catch her whose busy care is bentTo follow that which flies before her face,Not prizing her poor infant's discontent—So runn'st thou after that which flies from thee,Whilst I thy babe chase thee afar behind,