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Land, devoid of trees it stands. Massa'pequa Great water land — how few, how few they are. Their poetry was Nature's. Deep within The heart they held it, but all unexpressed In wreathed numbers was the joy they felt, So silent, grave, they lived their lives, and passed. From shore and river, forest-land and plain, They passed away. Of all they saw and wrought, Of all their stately life and utterance, A few names glimpse for us their every thought. — Jessie Fremont Hume.
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