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 purfumes and the scent 
Of healing herbs to just men's fields!