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 Taut, my bow shall fling its shaft with brazen droning. To my challenge, thou shalt answer sorely moaning,— Foul destroyer, thou shalt wane away and perish. 



earth with guile and irksome woe, Art yet a mother unto me! Mute mother mine, I love thee so, Thou earth with guile and irksome woe! How sweet in earth's embrace to be, Nestling to her when May's aglow! Thou earth with guile and irksome woe, Art yet a mother unto me!

earth, the earth, ye men, revere, Green secrets of its moistened weeds; Its secret ordinance I hear: —The earth, the earth, ye men, revere, E'en its delights where venom breeds!— Earthy, untaught, I hold it dear. The earth, the earth, ye men, revere, Green secrets of its moistened weeds. 