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But their songs were so glad that they miss'd not its tune, And the hearth-fire was bright as an August noon. As if youth came back with the joyous strain, The aged lord welcomed in the train Of guest and vassal; for glad seem'd he To make and to share their festivity.

Though he may not see his 's brow, Though far away be his fair child now, Over the sea, and over the strand, In the sunny vales of Italian land, He may reckon now the days to spring, When her native birds and she will take wing, Blithe and beautiful, glad to come With the earliest flowers to their own dear home.