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[38]

III.

With mingled sound of horns and bells,
     A far-heard clang, the wild geese fly,
Storm-sent, from Arctic moors and fells,
     Like a great arrow through the sky,
Two dusky lines converged in one,
     Chasing the southward-flying sun;
While the brave snow-bird and the hardy jay
     Call to them from the pines, as if to bid them stay.

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