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Some day, when trees have shed their leaves ,*
And against the morning's white
The shivering birds beneath the eaves
Have sheltered for the night,
We'll turn our faces southward, love,
Toward the summer isle
Where bamboos spire to shafted grove
And wide-mouthed orchids smile.
And we will seek the quiet hill
Where towers the cotton tree,
And leaps the laughing crystal rill1,†#
And works the droning bee.,†#
And we will build a cottage therelonely nest*
Beside an open glade,
With black-ribbed blue-bells blowing near,†# And there forever will we rest,*
And ferns that never fade. O love—O nut-brown maid!*