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Low-anchored
cloud,
Newfoundland air,
Fountain-head and source
of rivers,
Dew-cloth, dream-drapery,
And napkin
spread by fays;
Drifting meadow of the air,
Where
bloom the daisied banks and violets,
And in whose
fenny labyrinth
The bittern booms and heron wades;
Spirit of lakes and seas and rivers,
Bear only
perfumes and the scent
Of healing herbs to just men's
fields!
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