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Is it not better, then, to be alone, And love Earth only for its earthly sake? By the blue rushing of the arrowy Rhone Or the pure bosom of its nursing lake. - Lord Byron (George Gordon Noel Byron), Childe Harold (canto III, st. 71) Thou Royal River, born of sun and shower In chambers purple with the Alpine glow, Wrapped in the spotless ermine of the snow And rocked by tempests! - Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, To the River Rhone
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