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Where a green mountain-valley Meets the brave, broad Sea, I lay. ’Neath freshest blue-and-white Laugh’d the merry morning light; The waves flash’d quick and bright, And the breeze blew free. Cliffs of buff and rosy clay, Crests of glowing grass, Closed the valley, and lock’d it in With a rocky forest-pass; Down whose precipice of leaves, Where Tuis sang, A happy creek of crystal Shouting sprang: Danced by the silver shingles Of the old, deserted house (That, satin-shining, peep’d between A lacy, and light-latticed screen Of willow-green, apple-green, And white-blossom’d boughs): Thence, ’mid bands of yellow blossom, Gleam’d and slid In long, blue, smooth loops, The grassy flats amid.