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from Frost at Midnight

From Frost at Midnight by Samuel Taylor Coleridge 'The Frost 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 Abtruser 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. Sea, hill, and wood, This populous village! Sea, and hill, and wood, With all the numberless goings-on of life, Inaudible as dreams.'

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