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 Deep foliage, the thickest beeches— Though elsewhere they are all dying— Tallest oaks and yellow birches That dip their leaves in you, mourning, As now I dip my hair, immemorial Of me, immemorial of him Immemorial of these our promises! Here shall be a bird's paradise, They sing to you remembering my voice: Here the most secluded spaces For miles around, hallowed by a stench To be our joint solitude and temple; In memory of this clear marriage And the child I have brought you in the late years. Live, river, live in luxuriance Remembering this our son, In remembrance of me and my sorrow And of the new wandering!”