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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