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Upon the bank once stood by Kegums town,
Of Lielvarde's Lord the famous halls.
There yet today a cataract pours down,
And through the cliffs into the river falls.
Where springtime's spirit kind on nature smiled,
A wonder came on its appointed day:
The land was waking fast from winter mild,
And cheerful folk their labours deemed but play,
While tones of youths and maidens blushing coy
Mixed with the song of birds to greet the morn.
All felt within them nature's perfect joy,
In ancient times to blissful freedom born.
The Lielvarde Lord strolled in the field,
Together with his son, a lad full fair;
But eighteen youthful summers was the yield,
The span of time that graced the Lord's young heir.
The old man ever sought his son to show
In nature how the Godhead close by stands,
And in its rhythms mighty powers flow,
In heavens, waters, forests, and the lands.
Conversing thus, unmarked their path they found
Into the shadows at the forest's verge;
The old man sat to rest upon the ground,
Beneath the oaks where woods and meadow merge.
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