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    In western lands beneath the Sun

    the flowers may rise in Spring,

    the trees may bud, the waters run,

    the merry finches sing.

    Or there maybe 'tis cloudless night

    and swaying beeches bear

    the Elven-stars as jewels white

    amid their branching hair.

    Though here at journey's end I lie

    in darkness buried deep,

    beyond all towers strong and high,

    beyond all mountains steep,

    above all shadows rides the Sun

    and Stars for ever dwell:

    I will not say the Day is done,

    nor bid the Stars farewell.

    https://youtu.be/8Wdid7I2QIw ? list=RD8Wdid7I2QIw
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