Rivers and Winds Among the Twisted Hills by Robert Louis Stevenson

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Rivers and winds among the twisted hills, / Hears, and his hearing slowly fills, / And hearkens, and his face is lit, / Life facing, Death pursuing it.

As with heaped bees at hiving time / The boughs are clotted, as (ere prime)

Heaven swarms with stars, or the city street / Pullulates with passing feet; / So swarmed my senses once, that now / Repose behind my tranquil brow, / Unsealed, asleep, quiescent, clear; / Now only the vast shapes I hear --

Hear -- and my hearing slowly fills --

Rivers and winds among the twisting hills, / And hearken -- and my face is lit --

Life facing, Death pursuing it.

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