SNOW ON THE MOUNTAIN 



Beautiful, beautiful "Snow on the mountain," 



Whence are thy colors so rare? 

 Thy green and white robes were dipped in a fountain, 



A fountain of sun-sweetened air; 

 Where dwelleth the Artist who mingled thy hues, 



His studio where shall I seek; 

 Does He find His fine oils in the clear morning dews 



And His tints on the snow-covered peak? 



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