Do you remember how we used to go
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Into the woods at midsummer?—
For, after all, 'twas not so long ago—
And leave our horses tethered by the stream,
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And then steal farther in to kiss and dream—
A hidden place it was of rock and pine,
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There would we eat our bread and drink our wine,
And laugh—ah! how we laughed the laugh divine,
There in the woods at midsummer.
Then on a sudden grave and strange we were,
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With joy, like anguish, holding fast our eyes,
While I would frame your face in your deep hair
Falling across the hills of Paradise;
And start, for fear 'twas foot of some chance comer,
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There in the woods at midsummer.
The blossoms of the year had ceased to blow,
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Just a green palace shorn of ornament
The July woods, and surely long ago
Melted the last hid snow, sans argument;
Yet I found both the blossoms and the snow,
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There in the woods at midsummer.