I knew his house by the poplar-trees,
Green and silvery in the breeze;
"A heaven-high hedge," were the words he said,
"And holly-hocks, pink and white and red. . . ."
It seemed so far from McChesney's Hall -
Where first he told me about it all.
A long path runs inside from the gate, -
He still can take it, early or late;
But where in the world is the path for me
Except the river that runs to the sea!
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