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Murmur, glad waters, by! Faint gales, with happy sigh, Come wandering o'er That green and mossy bed, Where, on a gentle head, Storms beat no more!

What though for her in vain Falls now the bright spring-rain, Plays the soft wind; Yet still, from where she lies, Should blessed breathings rise, Gracious and kind.

Therefore let song and dew Thence, in the heart renew Life's vernal glow! And, o'er that holy earth Scents of the violet's birth Still come and go!