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POEMS. 193
LIV. CHARLOTTE BRONTE'S GRAVE.
A LL overgrown by cunning moss, ^~* All interspersed with weed, The little cage of ' Currer Bell,' In quiet Haworth laid.
This bird, observing others,
When frosts too sharp became, Retire to other latitudes,
Quietly did the same,
But differed in returning ;
Since Yorkshire hills are green, Yet not in all the nests I meet
Can nightingale be seen.
Gathered from many wanderings,
Gethsemane can tell Through what transporting anguish
She reached the asphodel ! 13
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