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Continueth our glee
Through the wide meadows, through the long lush grass;

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Our jocund course between
The great grand trees, who in our changeful glass
Gaze, as a seer into a depth of dreams:
Queenliest trees, proud-form'd, with port serene!
And now our many streams
Are blending, and the mountain alleys,
Merged in one broad road, plunge toward the valleys,
While o'er our torrent force the hill-song leaps.