3 The log at the wood-pile, the axe supported by it, The sylvan hut, the vine over the doorway, the space clear’d for garden, The irregular tapping of rain down on the leaves after the storm is lull’d, The walling and moaning at intervals, the thought of the sea, The thought of ships struck in the storm and put on their beam ends, and the cutting away of masts, The sentiment of the huge timbers of old-fashion’d houses and barns, The remember’d print or narrative, the voyage at a…
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The darkness of natural as well as of sylvan dusk gathered over me.
Charlotte Bronte -- Jane Eyre
Laugh at woe and laugh at foe, Menoa’s scion now is safe this night! A forest child we lost to strife; A sylvan daughter caught by life!