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 | Leaves of grass. |  |
25
Has the night descended?
Was the road of late so toilsome? did we stop discour- aged, nodding on our way?
Yet a passing hour I yield you, in your tracks to pause oblivious, Pioneers! O pioneers!
Was the road of late so toilsome? did we stop discour- aged, nodding on our way?
Yet a passing hour I yield you, in your tracks to pause oblivious, Pioneers! O pioneers!
| Leaves of grass. | |