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Under yonder beech-tree single on the No, she is athirst and drinking up her greensward,
Couched with her arms behind her
wonder;
Earth to her is young as the slip of the
new moon.
Knees and tresses folded to slip and Deals she an unkindness, 'tis but her rapid
golden head,
Maiden still the morn is; and strange she All the girls are out with their baskets for