The Poetry Of Earth Is Never Dead When All The Birds Are Faint With The Hot Sun, And Hide I Cooling Trees, A Voice Will Run From Hedge To Hedge About The New-mown Mead.
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The Poetry Of Earth Is Never Dead
The Poetry Of Earth Is Never Dead When All The Birds Are Faint With The Hot Sun, And Hide I Cooling Trees, A Voice Will Run From Hedge To Hedge About The New-mown Mead.
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