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I was walking in a meadow of Paradise When I heard a singing Far away and sweet Like a Roman harp, Sweet and murmurous Like the wind, Far and soft Like the fir trees. It will not change a song If the bird has a golden crest; No feathers of blue and rose-red Could make a song. I have known in my dreaming A gray bird that sang While all the fields listened! The Bird of Paradise is like flowers of many trees Blooming on one: I saw him in the meadow, But it was the gray bird I heard singing Beyond and far. |