Your friends shall be the tall wind,
The river and the tree;
The sun that laughs and marches,
The swallows and the sea.
Your pray'rs shall be the murmur
Of grasses in the rain;
The song of wild wood thrushes
That makes you glad again.
And you shall run and wander,
And you shall dream and sing
Of brave things - and bright things
Beyond the swallow's wings.
And you shall envy no man,
Nor hurt your heart with sighs,
For I will keep you simple
While search may make you wise.
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