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 dasied banks and violets,
And in whose fenny labyrinth The bittern booms and heron wades;
Spirit of the lake and seas and rivers,
Bear only perfumes and the scent Of healing herbs to just men's fields!
