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“But what’s the Thorn? and what’s the Pond?

And what’s the Hill of moss to her?

And what’s the creeping breeze that comes

The little Pond to stir?”

I cannot tell; but some will say

She hanged her baby on the tree;

Some say she drowned it in the pond,

Which is a little step beyond:

But all and each agree,

The little babe was buried there,

Beneath that Hill of moss so fair.