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And then comes this magnificent verse.
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"Over the breast of spring, the land, amidst cities,
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Amid lanes and through old woods,
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where lately the violets peep'd from the ground,
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spotting the grey debris,
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Amid the grass in the fields each side of the lanes,
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passing the endless grass,
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Passing the yellow-spear'd wheat,
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every grain from its shroud
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in the dark brown fields uprisen,
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Passing the apple-tree blows of
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white and pink in the orchards,