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To drink their odours, and their mighty swinging To hear--an old and solemn harmony; Thine earthly rainbows stretch'd across the sweep Of the aethereal waterfall, whose veil Robes some unsculptur'd image; the strange sleep Which when the voices of the desert fail Wraps all in its own deep eternity; -Percy Bysshe Shelley, Mont Blanc: Lines Written in the Vale of Chamouni, 1817 |