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N her island home, her home of flowers,
 * The Queen of Beauty sat at noon,

In the shade of one of her wild-rose bowers, Watching the spray of the bright sea-showers,
 * As it sparkled in the sun of June.

And the smile of delight round her lip that played
 * Was as sweet as a smile can be,

For that day had her minstrel-worshippers laid On her altar a book where each pen had paid
 * Its vows to their island-deity.