For miles in every direction lay the old forest of Gardomwood , a relic of primeval woodland , rich in glades and brakes , in streamlets and mizzies.
You and I gathered nuts, as children, in the same deep lanes, and played about the same poquelaye […] .
Who dyes the vtmoſt dolor doth abye, / But who that liues, is lefte to waile his loſſe: / So life is loſſe, and death felicity.
And men go back to it today and will continue through the centuries to go, and say to themselves, as they pass through the foregates, the Propylaea, and come out through those marvellous shadows into the sunlight and see across there, …
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