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REMINISCENCE OF "ALASTOR."

Of the wild wind's moan

Told him that here he should die alone,

Without even Nature's care.

He found a place by a brooklet's side

Warm with the summer's sun;

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To the loving wave

One hand he gave,

The other he rested upon.

The wind blew gently up from the lake

With a soft and light caress;

The branching trees

And the woodland breeze,

And the pillowing grass that echoed these

Murmured their tenderness.

Like a rustling wind in a forest thick

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