The rosy mountain peaks laughed like high lustrous thoughts, and Helen , speechless, raised her pale hands toward the sun and joyed to feel its warm rays falling on her frozen palms.
Now when the number of my years Is all fulfilled and I From sedentary life Shall rouse me up to die, Bury me low and let me lie Under the wide and starry sky. Joying to live, I joyed to die, Bury me low and let me lie.
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