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 fowl 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. |