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I Prefer the Gorgeous Freedom

 I prefer the gorgeous freedom,
And I fly to lands of grace,
Where in wide and clear meadows
All is good, as dreams, and blest.
Here they rice: the clover clear, And corn-flower's gentle lace, And the rustle is always here: "Ears are leaning.
Take your ways!" In this immense sea of fair, Only one of blades reclines.
You don't see in misty air, I'd seen it!It will be mine!

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