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Where bells no more affright the morn
Where scrabble never comes
Where very nimble Gentlemen
Are forced to keep their rooms

Where tired Children placid sleep
Thro' Centuries of noon
This place is Bliss—this town is Heaven
Please, Pater, pretty soon!

"Oh could we climb where Moses stood
And view the Landscape o'er"
Not Father's bells—nor Factories
Could scare us any more!