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Upon the hearth the fire is red,
Beneath the roof there is a bed;
But not yet weary are our feet,
Still round the corner we may meet
A sudden tree or standing stone
That none have seen but we alone. Still round the corner there may wait
Tree and flower and leaf and grass, A new road or a secret gate,
Let them pass! Let them pass! And though we pass them by today
Hill and water under sky, Tomorrow we may come this way
Pass them by! Pass
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