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Photographer's Note

HOW sweet it is, when mother Fancy rocks
The wayward brain, to saunter through a wood!
An old place, full of many a lovely brood,
Tall trees, green arbours, and ground-flowers in flocks;
And wild rose tip-toe upon hawthorn stocks,

passage from "HOW SWEET IT IS, WHEN MOTHER FANCY ROCKS" - William Wordsworth

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