L o le fleuve lent rencontre la mare, un cygne rouge soulve les ailes rouges et le bec plus fonc, et sous le pourpre vers le bas de son sein mou dboucle ses pieds de corail.
Par le mauve-fonc de la chaleur de mort du soleil et de la brume, le raie de niveau du sun-beam a caress le lis avec le sein fonc, et a tach avec de l'or plus riche sa crte d'or.
L o la leve lente de la mare, flotteurs dans le fleuve et drive lentement parmi les roseaux, et soulve les drapeaux jaunes, il flotte o la mare et le fleuve se runissent.
Baiser royal d'ampreheure pas plus regret ni vieilles mmoires profondes pour troubler le bonheur; l o le bas carex est pais, le jour-lis d'or tend et se repose sous le flottement doux des ailes rouges de cygne.
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