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THE REVERIE OF POOR SUSAN

      AT the corner of Wood Street, when daylight appears,
      Hangs a Thrush that sings loud, it has sung for three years:
      Poor Susan has passed by the spot, and has heard
      In the silence of morning the song of the Bird.

      Tis a note of enchantment; what ails her? She sees
      A mountain ascending, a vision of trees;
      Bright volumes of vapour through Lothbury glide,
      And a river flows on through the vale of Cheapside.

      Green pastures she views in the midst of the dale,
      Down which she so often has tripped with her pail;             10
      And a single small cottage, a nest like a dove's,
      The one only dwelling on earth that she loves.

      She looks, and her heart is in heaven: but they fade,
      The mist and the river, the hill and the shade:
      The stream will not flow, and the hill will not rise,
      And the colours have all passed away from her eyes!
                                                              1797.


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