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man, so say you, wrote this book?

Life is abundant here: from every page—

Cheerful, courageous, philosophic, sage,

With no repining and no backward look—

It flows, as healthful as the mountain brook,

That gathering scent of grape and saxifrage,

Makes joyous pastime of its pilgrimage,

Fresh'ning each pebbly bend, each mossy crook.

The story journeys to forgetfulness?

Truly: yet he who wrote, with failing breath,