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sweeps the broad St. Lawrence
 * I stood one windy day,

Upon a rocky islet
 * That faced the open bay,

And watched the breakers leaping
 * In towers of snow-white spray.

Like some invading army
 * Upon the rocks they bore,

With clamor and confusion,
 * And vast tumultuous roar;

Their mists, like smoke of battle,
 * Rolled white along the shore.

Upon my brow in baptism
 * Cold, stinging drops were flung,

And in my ears, like music,
 * The storm's wild chant was rung—

The chorus of the waters,
 * That knew nor speech nor tongue.