"We both believe, and disbelieve a hundred times an hour, which keeps believing nimble.

In lands I never saw, they say, Immortal Alps look down,Whose bonnets touch the firmament,Whose sandals touch the town, ―Meek at whose everlasting feetA myriad daisies play.Which, sir, are you, and which am I.Upon an August day?
In lands I never saw, they say, Immortal Alps look down,Whose bonnets touch the firmament,Whose sand...
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