Happy is the man who loves the woods and waters,
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Brother to the grass, and well-beloved of Pan;
The earth shall be his, and all her laughing daughters—
Never grows he old, nor shall he taste of sorrow,
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Happy at the day's end as when the day began,
Yesterday forgotten, unshadowed by To-morrow,—
Fellowed by the mountains, ne'er his heart is lonely,
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Talked to all day by rivers as they ran,
The earth is his love, as he who loves one only—
His gossips are the stars, and the moon-rise his tavern;
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He who seeks a better find it if he can—
And O his sweet pillow in the ferny cavern!