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Idly I cut me a reed by the shore where the sea heaves and thunders,— Dumb and forgotten it lay in my simple, my wind-beaten cabin. Once an old traveler passed who remained for the night in our dwelling,— (Foreign his dress and his tongue, an old man who was strange to our region.) Seeing the reed, he retrieved it, and lopping and piercing the nodules, Sweetly his lips he applied to the holes that he fashioned: responding, Swiftly the reed-voice awoke, till the noise of the sea breathed within it; Thus would wild Zephyros blow, were he suddenly ruffling the waters, Fingering lightly the reed-stems and flooding the banks with the sea-sound.