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POEMS.

POEMS.

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 mossed headstone:

At midnight the moon cometh
And looketh down alone.
Her song the lintwhite swelleth,
The clear-voiced mavis dwelleth,
The fledgling throstle lispeth,
The slumbrous wave outwelleth,
The babbling runnel crispeth,
The hollow grot replieth

Where Claribel low-lieth.

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