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And good Aunt Mary, busy as she is,
Lays down her knitting. 15 Uncle John. Listen to me, then.
'T was in the olden time, long, long ago, And long before the great oak at our door Was yet an acorn, on a mountain's side
Lived, with his wife, a cottager. They dwelt 20 Beside a glen and near a dashing brook,
A pleasant spot in spring, where first the wren
the grass, Flowers opened earliest ; but, when winter came,
That little brook was fringed with other flowers, 25 White flowers, with crystal leaf and stem, that
While, many a fathom deep, below, the brook
Not so fast,
Of herdsman's foot, and never human voice
Upon the slopes of the great Caucasus, 40 Or where the rivulets of Ararat
Seek the Armenian vales. That mountain rose
Among the summer blossoms, far below, 45 Saw its white peaks in August from their door.