Mist

Low-anchored cloud,

Newfoundland air,

Fountain head and source of rivers,

Dew-cloth, dream drapery,

And napkin spread by fays;

Drifting meadow of the air,

Where bloom the dasied banks and violets,

And in whose fenny labyrinth

The bittern booms and heron wades;

Spirit of the lake and seas and rivers,

Bear only perfumes and the scent

Of healing herbs to just men's fields!