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To H. C.,
SIX YEARS OLD.
O Thou! whose fancies from afar are brought;Who of thy words dost make a mock apparel,And fittest to unutterable thoughtThe breeze-like motion and the self-born carol;Thou Faery Voyager! that dost floatIn such clear water, that thy BoatMay rather seemTo brood on air than on an earthly stream;