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 She triumphs, in the vivid green 
Where sun and quivering foliage meet; 
And in each soldier’s heart serene; 
When death stood near them they have seen 
The radiant forests where her feet 
Move on a breeze of silver sheen.
And they are fortunate, who fight For gleaming landscapes swept and shafted And crowned by cloud pavilions white; Hearing such harmonies as might Only from Heaven be downward wafted— Voices of victory and delight.

by Siegfried Sassoon
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