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And stroke with listless hand The woodbine through the window, till at last I came to do it with a sort of love. - Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Aurora Leigh (bk. I) A filbert-hedge with wild-briar overtwined, And clumps of woodbine taking the soft wind Upon their summer thrones. - John Keats (1), I Stood Tiptoe Upon a Little Hill And the woodbine spices are wafted abroad, And the musk of the rose is blown. - Lord Alfred Tennyson, Maud (pt. XXII, st. I)
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