Beyond the Hills
The daffodils fling far the flag of Spring,
Their golden troop the garden-fortress fills,
And bird-throat bugles greet the days that bring
The daffodils.
Over the hills the Summer comes at last;
But sad the light and sad the laughing rills,
And sad the golden flowers—since he has passed
Beyond the hills.
Their golden troop the garden-fortress fills,
And bird-throat bugles greet the days that bring
The daffodils.
Over the hills the Summer comes at last;
But sad the light and sad the laughing rills,
And sad the golden flowers—since he has passed
Beyond the hills.
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