Thy woods be not for conquering
But for running swift and long
From wolf, towards deer
With river, on earth
Ye ivy be not for pruning
But unfurling and undoing
His forest be not for lumber
But the sweet low song of oak trees
Mine garden be not for nurturement of my own
But of all the rabbits and bees
But for running swift and long
From wolf, towards deer
With river, on earth
Ye ivy be not for pruning
But unfurling and undoing
His forest be not for lumber
But the sweet low song of oak trees
Mine garden be not for nurturement of my own
But of all the rabbits and bees
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