The sentiment is of a distinctly Wordsworthian quality.
O wonder-working Queen! Romance, Immortal mother of the world that seems, Thy work alone is safe from time and chance, O golden melodizer of sweet dreams!
If the natural fecundity of deer could be controlled, the passionate pleadings of Bambi lovers who anthropomorphize could probably be accommodated, at least in urban areas and parks.
Not far from this place, there is a tuft of about a dozen of tall beeches […] .
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