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The Old Man still stood talking by my side;
My former thoughts return’d: the fear that kills;
He with a smile did then his words repeat;
The waters of the Ponds where they abide.
While he was talking thus, the lonely place,
I seem'd to see him pace About the weary moors continually, Wandering about alone and silently. While I these thoughts within myself pursued, He, having made a pause, the same discourse renewed.
And soon with this he other matter blended,