.THE DEW-DROP OF DAWN
ARE GLARING IN MORNINGLY LIGHT
THE SILVER CLOUDS GONE
THE INDIAN SUMMER SO BRIGHT
I HEAR THE PIPER SO NIGH
THE WESTERLY WIND BRINGS HIS TONE
THE TREE-TOPS SO FAR IN THE SKY
I FOLLOW THOSE TRACES UNKNOWN
[CHORUS]
AND OVER THE VALLEYS .
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