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There be none of Beauty's daughters
With a magic like Thee
And like music on the waters
Is thy sweet voice to me
When, as if its sound were causing
The charméd ocean's pausing
The lie still and gleaming
And the lull'd winds seem dreaming
And the midnight moon is weaving
Her bright chain o'er the deep
Whose breast is heaving
As an infant's asleep
So the spirit bows before thee
To listen and adore thee
With a full but soft emotion
Like the swell of Summer's ocean
