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The Forst performs its secret ministry, Unhelped by any wind. The owlet's cry Came loud—and hark, again! loud as before. The inmates of my cottage, all at rest, Have left me to that solitude, which suits Abstruser musings : save that at my side My cradled infant slumbers peacefully. Tis calm indeed! so calm, that it disturbs And vexes meditation with its strange And extreme silentness ...... — S.T. Coleridge
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