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THE SONG OF THE IRIS MARSHES
When morn is bright on the mountains olden
Till dawn is lost in the blaze of day,
When morn is bright and the marshes golden,
Where shall the lost lights fade away?
And where, my love, shall we dream to-day?
Dawn is fled to the marshy hollows
Where ghosts of stars in the dimness stray,
And the water is streaked with the flash of
swallows
And all through summer the iris sway.
But where, my love, shall we dream to-day?
When night is black in the iris marshes.
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