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54
Who once had courted the long-sought Pole,
Climbed up to the highest vantage-ground,
And distant roofs of a farm-house found,
Whose chimneys' banners would seem to vie
In color with snow-clouds 'gainst the sky.
And 'neath this temple of toil, 'twas thought,
Was useful produce that might be bought,
At sheer starvation prices, perchance,
Or terms that gratitude would enhance,
Ere our providings—too good to last—
Had joined the memories of the past.
So all things prosperous-ward seemed turned,
As far as the body might be concerned.
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