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My soul awoke from slumber-the long ease Of years that passed away in dull content, Not caring what the world's deep voices meant- Sunk in my dreams, I heard their harmonies Like wind-blown clamour of far-calling seas That told of Ithaca to sailors spent With trouble, and forgetful at the scent And taste of fruit plucked from the lotus trees;

I am a reed-a little reed Down by the river, A whim of God whose moment's need Was that the Giver Might blow melodious and long One cadence of eternal song.