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<p id="id00215" style="margin-top: 2em">_19
Binsey Poplars</p>
<p id="id00216">felled 1879_</p>
<p id="id00217">MY aspens dear, whose airy cages quelled,<br/>
Quelled or quenched in leaves the leaping sun,<br/>
All felled, felled, are all felled;<br/>
Of a fresh and following folded rank<br/>
Not spared, not one<br/>
That dandled a sandalled<br/>
Shadow that swam or sank<br/>
On meadow and river and wind-wandering weed-winding<br/>
bank.<br/></p>
<p id="id00218">O if we but knew what we do<br/>
When we delve or hew—<br/>
Hack and rack the growing green!<br/>
Since country is so tender<br/>
To touch, her being só slender,<br/>
That, like this sleek and seeing ball<br/>
But a prick will make no eye at all,<br/>
Where we, even where we mean<br/>
To mend her we end her,<br/>
When we hew or delve:<br/>
After-comers cannot guess the beauty been.<br/>
Ten or twelve, only ten or twelve<br/>
Strokes of havoc únselve<br/>
The sweet especial scene,<br/>
Rural scene, a rural scene,<br/>
Sweet especial rural scene.<br/></p>
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