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No louring clouds to bring fear
To the hearts of men.
No clouds to hide
The only stark line of his creation –
All else is gentle.
No ugliness there.

E’en the sun,
In all its majesty and chemical combustion
Here in the Rhinns
Is gentle and appealing.
Cooled by the breeze from the sea,
It rises and falls
In gentle majesty.
No ugliness there.

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