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 ANOTHER TO THE RIVER ANKOR

Ankor, on whose silver-sanded shore,

My soul-shrined saint, my fair Idea lives;

O blessèd brook, whose milk-white swans adore

Thy crystal stream, refinèd by her eyes,

Where sweet myrrh-breathing Zephyr in the spring

Gently distils his nectar-dropping showers,

Where nightingales in Arden sit and sing

Amongst the dainty dew-impearlèd flowers;

Say thus, fair brook, when thou shalt see thy queen,

"Lo, here thy shepherd spent his wand'ring years

And in these shades, dear nymph, he oft hath been;

And here to thee he sacrificed his tears."

Fair Arden, thou my Tempe art alone,

And thou, sweet Ankor, art my Helicon!