CLEAR MORNING

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The air is full of thin and blowing bells
Whose delicate, faint music breaks and swells
For every lightest wind, and dies unheard,—
Unless it be by some leaf-hidden bird,
Or some shy faun who listens in the reeds,
If haply there be tunes to suit his needs.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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