There at the foot of yonder nodding beech That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high, His listless length at noontide would he stretch, And pore upon the brook that babbles by. Poems by Mr. Gray - Page 147by Thomas Gray - 1768 - 187 pagesFull view
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Frank H. Ellis - Literary Criticism - 2005 - 234 pages
...at the Peep of Dawn 'Brushing with hasty Steps the Dews away To meet the Sun upon the upland Lawn. There at the Foot of yonder nodding Beech That wreathes its old fantastic Roots so high, 'His listless Length at Noontide would he stretch And pore upon the Brook...