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THERE was a Boy; ye knew him well, ye Cliffs
pauses of deep silence mocked his skill, Then, sometimes, in that silence, while he hung
Listening, a gentle shock of mild surprise
This Boy was taken from his Mates, and died In childhood, ere he was full twelve years
old. Fair is the spot, most beautiful the Vale Where he was born: the grassy Church-yard hangs Upon a slope above the village-school ; And through that Church-yard when my way has led At evening, I believe, that oftentimes A long half-hour together I have stood Mute - looking at the grave in which he lies!
ON HER FIRST ASCENT TO THE SUMMIT OF HELVELLYN.
INMATE of a mountain Dwelling,
Potent was the spell that bound thee
Lo! the dwindled woods and meadows!
And a record of commotion