Thou drifting meadow of the air
Where bloom The dasied banks & violets
And in whose fenny labyrinths
The bittern booms, and curlew peeps
The heron wades and boding rain crow clucks;
Low anchored cloud,
Newfoundland air,
Fountain head and source of rivers,
Ocean branch that flowest to the sun,
Diluvian spirit, or Deucaleon shroud,
Dew cloth dream drapery
And napkin spread by fays —
Spirit of lakes and seas and rivers —
Sea fow! that with the east wind
Seeks't the shore — Groping thy way inland
By which ever name I please to call thee
Bear only perfumes and the scent
Of healing herbs to just men's fields.
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