strode quotes

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Before the Roman came to Rye or out to Severn strode,
The rolling English drunkard made the rolling English road.
The march interrupted the light afternoon.
Cars stopped dead, children began to run,
Gaze not on swans, in whose soft breast,
A full-hatched beauty seems to nest
Swans moulting die, snow melts to tears,
Roses do blush and hang their heads,
The wanton snow flew to her breast,
Like pretty birds into their nest,
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