I.
Hast thou not mark'd, when o'er thy startled head
Sudden and deep the thunder-peal has roll'd,
How when its echoes fell, a silence dead
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How when its echoes fell, a silence dead
Sunk on the wood, the meadow, and the wold?
The rye-glass shakes not on the sod-built fold,
The rustling aspen's leaves are mute and still,
The wall-flower waves not on the ruin'd hold,
Really a great poem. tony
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How when its echoes fell, a silence dead Sunk on the wood, the meadow, and the wold? The rye-glass shakes not on the sod-built fold, The rustling aspen's leaves are mute and still, The wall-flower waves not on the ruin'd hold, Really a great poem. tony