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A Green Stream

 I have sailed the River of Yellow Flowers, 
Borne by the channel of a green stream, 
Rounding ten thousand turns through the mountains 
On a journey of less than thirty miles.
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Rapids hum over heaped rocks; But where light grows dim in the thick pines, The surface of an inlet sways with nut-horns And weeds are lush along the banks.
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Down in my heart I have always been as pure As this limpid water is.
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Oh, to remain on a broad flat rock And to cast a fishing-line forever!

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