Suddenly out of all green in the park,
you don't know what, a something, taken, wanes;
you feel like coming closer to the panes,
there, silent, bide. Just fervently and stark,
out of the wood intones the piping plover,
you think of some Hieronymus of hush:
such yearning earnest solitude and fever,
this solo sounding voice, whom waters' gush
will soon hear out. Walls of the hall recoiled
with all their pictures from us, pulled away,
so as not to eavesdrop on us, as they might.
The faded wallpaper reflects the day,
the not so certain post meridian light,
in which you were afraid, while still a child.
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore, While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, ......
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