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Langdon Smith

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Then I hid me close to the reedy tarn,
Where the mammoth came to drink;
Through brawn and bone I drave the stone
And slew him upon the brink.

 
Langdon Smith

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Were't the last drop in the well,
As I gasp'd upon the brink,
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Little I ask, my wants are few;
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And such too is the grandeur of the dooms
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All lovely tales that we have heard or read:
An endless fountain of immortal drink,
Pouring unto us from the heaven’s brink.

 
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