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Not so!—swell forth triumphantly, The full, rich, fervent strain! Hence with young love and life I go, In the summer's joyous train.

With sunshine, with sweet odour, With every precious thing, Upon the last warm southern breeze My soul its flight shall wing.

Alone I shall not linger, When the days of hope are past, To watch the fall of leaf by leaf, To wait the rushing blast

Triumphantly, triumphantly! Sing to the woods, I go! For me, perchance, in other lands, The glorious rose may blow.