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Alfred Lord Tennyson - ClaribelAlfred Lord Tennyson - Claribel
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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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