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XXI

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Deep in the forest was a little dell

High overarchèd with the leafy sweep

Of a broad oak, through whose gnarled roots there fell

A slender rill that sung itself to sleep,

Where its continuous toil had scooped a well

To please the fairy folk; breathlessly deep

The stillness was, save when the dreaming brook

From its small urn a drizzly murmur shook.

The Complete Poetical Works of James Russell Lowell

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