And the most enchanting visions come
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o his thirsty spirit of Queensland rum, While the sun rays strike through his garments scant-- Is it there, dear mother, this wond'rous plant? ``"Not there--not there, my child."= Or Southward, down where our brethren hold Those keys of power, rich mines of gold-- That land of rumour and vague reports, Alluvial diggings, and reefs of quartz-- Where brokers give you the straightest "tip,"
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