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THE SONG OF THE WIND
I LOVE yon crystal lakelet, Her purity and peace; I sing her love songs from the shore Amid the leafy trees — A host of melancholy And mystic melodies.
I press my lips to her lips In the kiss my soul so craves, Till she blushes into ripples And dimples into waves — Till she dimples into eddies, And blushes into waves.
And, when the night has fallen, I sleep upon her breast, For I weary of my burden Of odors and must rest — For with surfeit of sweet odors My spirit is oppressed.
1879.