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William Allingham - The Little DellWilliam Allingham - The Little Dell
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Doleful was the land, Dull on, every side, Neither soft n`or grand, Barren, bleak, and wide; Nothing look`d with love; All was dingy brown; The very skies above Seem`d to sulk and frown. Plodding sick and sad, Weary day on day; Searching, never glad, Many a miry way; Poor existence lagg`d In this barren place; While the seasons dragg`d Slowly o`er its face. Spring, to sky and ground, Came before I guess`d; Then one day I found A valley, like a nest! Guarded with a spell Sure it must have been, This little fairy dell Which I had never seen. Open to the blue, Green banks hemm`d it round A rillet wander`d through With a tinkling sound; Briars among the rocks Tangled arbours made; Primroses in flocks Grew beneath their shade. Merry birds a few, Creatures wildly tame, Perch`d and sung and flew; Timid field-mice came; Beetles in the moss Journey`d here and there; Butterflies across Danced through sunlit air. There I often read, Sung alone, or dream`d; Blossoms overhead, Where the west wind stream`d; Small horizon-line, Smoothly lifted up, Held this world of mine In a grassy cup. The barren land to-day Hears my last adieu: Not an hour I stay; Earth is wide and new. Yet, farewell, farewell! May the sun and show`rs Bless that Little Dell Of safe and tranquil hours!
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