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Quaint houses on country lanes,
Draped with ivy and Virginia creeper,
Some old; some new, built next door
In an untidy pattern.

The church-bells chime, their
Discordant jangling somehow
Beautiful, reminding that
The doors of God's House are open.

And spreading out into the horizon,
A patchwork quilt of fields
Shapes and colours all different,
And looking back, you can hear

Church-bells

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