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 And while they wondered what these things might be, At last spake forth the oldest of them all, Burdened with hundred winters in his soul: "I can remember, when my years were young, Hearing the old monks say, one went from here When spring was on the earth, as it is now, Some five-score years ago, and was not seen Again, though search was made in all the land."

And some believed this was the same, and all Forgot it in a sennight's silent toil, Save one, that saw, and seeing understood, And for the greater glory of High God Wrote down the story in a mighty book, And limned the old saint hearkening to the bird With bright hues, and you still may read and see.