... father told it me, Poor Old Leoni—Angels rest his soul! He was a woodman, and could fell and saw With lusty arm. You know that huge round beam Which props the hanging wall of the old Chapel. Beneath that tree, while yet it was a tree He found a baby wrapt in mosses, lined With thistle beards, and such small locks of wool As hang on brambles. Well, he brought him home, ... — Reminiscences of Samuel Taylor Coleridge and Robert Southey • Joseph Cottle
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