{"character_count": 369, "word_count": 64, "ccnet_language_score": [0.8434000015258789], "ccnet_perplexity": [1212.800048828125], "fasttext_language": ["en"]}
Even while I write there stands anear That almost tempts me from my sober

 task, So round--so ripe--so glowing and so

 warm She deems almost for ioye's fond kiss to

 ask Poising herself upon one foot--her arm Shading the eyes where love delights to

 bask, And glittering in the sun-her hand so

 fair, Is tangled in tress of auburn hair.

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