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Before our wheels there lies unrolled
A land of meadows and streams—too soon
We will lose it: Come, would you live blindfold?
Come for a bicycling afternoon!
Envoy.
O Tutors, the blinding sun awoke usFrom our pipes, our papers, our bookish swoon—
And, lest our learning should rise and choke us
We went for a bicycling afternoon!
