Poems of Nature (Whittier)/Illustration 1

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The Gateway to the White Mountains.

And northward, leaving at my back
The warm vale of the Merrimac,
I go to meet the winds of morn,
Blown down the hill-gaps, mountain-born,
Breathe scent of pines, and satisfy
The hunger of a lowland eye.
A summer Pilgrimage. 

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