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Twelfth night and
I shall wear a foolish grin
Soft air is hushing, peace,
and I could hear a pin
drop,
I knew that I would find you in your wilds
Wide-eyed and staring back at me, you fly
Searching and returning
To find your joy, then lose it once again
What beauty, what grace in buoyant flight
So bright against the amber of the fen
Sail away beyond the spinning mills
Silent, gentle spirit of the hill
Stay with me, until the journey's end,

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