Written in a Copy of Wordsworth

In the hottest crowd, when grace
Seems to hide her maiden face,
Here you'll find a mystic voice
Full of heaven's supernal noise,
And a breath of mountain wind
Rustling in the leaves you'll find:
In the world's seducing clan
It shall be your talisman,—
Keep it, Percy, long in honour
Of its author (and its donor)!
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