{"character_count": 785, "word_count": 143, "ccnet_language_score": [0.8860999941825867], "ccnet_perplexity": [1921.5999755859375], "fasttext_language": ["en"]}
There are birds in the woodland bowers,

 Voices in lonely dells, And streams that talk to the listening hours In earth s most secret cells; There is life on the foam-decked sand,

 By the ocean g curling lip, And life on the still lake $ strand

 Mid the flowers that o'er it dip; There is life in the rocking pines

 That sigh on the mountains crest, And life in the courser mane that shines As he SCOUTS the deserts breast. But go to the crowded mart,

 Mid the busy haunts of men; Go there and ask thyeheaft,

 What answer makes 1t then2 Ay! go where wealth is ringing Her golden lures around, Where the trump of fame is ringings

 Where pleasures wiles abound; Golf thou wouldst be lonely

 Where the phantom Love is woaed, And own that tnere-there only

 Mid crowds is Solitude. 