Binsey Poplars
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- My aspens dear, whose airy cages quelled,
- Quelled or quenched in leaves the leaping sun,
- All felled, felled, are all felled;
- Of a fresh and following folded rank
- Not spared, not one
- That dandled a sandalled
- Shadow that swam or sank
- On meadow and river and wind-wandering weed-winding bank.
- O if we but knew what we do
- When we delve or hew—
- Hack and rack the growing green!
- Since country is so tender
- To touch, her being só slender,
- That, like this sleek and seeing ball
- But a prick will make no eye at all,
- Where we, even where we mean
- To mend her we end her,
- When we hew or delve:
- After-comers cannot guess the beauty been.
- Ten or twelve, only ten or twelve
- Strokes of havoc unselve
- The sweet especial scene,
- Rural scene, a rural scene,
- Sweet especial rural scene.
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