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All overgrown by cunning moss
All interspersed with weed
The little cage of "Currer Bell"
In quiet "Haworth" laid

Gathered from many wanderings
Gethsemane can tell
Thro' what transporting anguish
She reached the Asphodel!

Soft falls the sounds of Eden
Upon her puzzled ear
Oh what an afternoon for Heaven
When "Bronte" entered there!