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137

V. PINE-WOODS.

(Silence.)
Tall, dark, majestically stern,
With something in their solemn mien
Of awe, some sense in the deep green
Of life-joy never to return;
Miles east, dark rain-clouds haunt the day—
Miles west, the sea lies cold and grey:
And overhead, suspending flight,
A goshawk hangs in the drear light.