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The valley rings with mirth and joy;

Among the hills the Echoes play

A never never ending song

To welcome in the May.

The Magpie chatters with delight;

The mountain Raven’s youngling Brood

Have left the Mother and the Nest;

And they go rambling east and west

In search of their own food;

Or through the glittering Vapors dart

In very wantonness of heart.