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As I pass the forests darkened stead
As I pass the forest's darkened stead,
Where womb of nature's light had spun
The tomb of ages old and young
This spindly hanging spider's web,
Near running brook who weaved its thread
And glance toward the hustled hum
I tread on lightly past the crush,
That tumbled with the moan and gush
Spread like film across the span
Glistening taught as wrapped with hands,
Of amber sparkle bright and thin
Gently laid with touch of wind
The patter of the gallant stream,
Where thought can reach and pupils gleam
And green gold fields of pastures' plenty,
A lone oak stood, a guard, a sentry
From the church atop the brow,
No horses near, no goat, no cow
The perfect scene of country splendour,
My mind awoke, my soul surrendered
Warmed by the resting ebbing flow,
Of sun's stroke on tip and toe
The chilly bite of dip in water,
The church still stood along the cluster
Of sycamore leaf and haughty yew,
'Boundless blue on every side'
No smoke, no puff, no cloud to view
A strong bark buoyed the eye,
As poplar trees looked straight and high
When I drink from cup of crimson brew,
The heron passed, the old drake flew
Gliding past the pale pole,
The mouse, the shrew, the vagrant vole
Disappeared without a trace,
His journey ended quick with haste
Darted to a vacant hole,
To wait, to sit, to hope, to wonder
To deftly hide neath wood and slumber,
And yearn for dust to merge his colour.
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