Page:May (Mácha, 1932).djvu/45

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PART THREE

Beyond the hills, the rising day
Awakes the sleeping May-time dale,
While over forest, across the vale,
The mist-like dreams still roam and play.
The bluish fog from the darkened woods
Ascends towards faintly colored skies,
And even above the lake, like hoods,
The rocking blue-tinged vapors rise.

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