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Claribel

         
                 A MELODY

       
      Where Claribel low-lieth
          The breezes pause and die,
             Letting the rose-leaves fall;
      But the solemn oak-tree sigheth,
             Thick-leaved, ambrosial,
          With an ancient melody
          Of an inward agony,
      Where Claribel low-lieth.

      At eve the beetle boometh
          Athwart the thicket lone;
      At noon the wild bee hummeth
          About the moss'd headstone;
      At midnight the moon cometh,
          And looketh down alone.
      Her song the lintwhite swelleth,
      The clear-voiced mavis dwelleth,
          The callow throstle lispeth,
      The slumbrous wave outwelleth,
          The babbling runnel crispeth,
      The hollow grot replieth
          Where Claribel low-lieth.
       


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