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Poem	LIGHTEST of dancers, with no thought Thy glimmering feet beat on my heart, Gayest of singers, with no care Waking to beauty the still air, More than the labours of our art, More than our wisdom can impart, Thine idle ecstasy hath taught. Lost long in solemn ponderings, With the blind shepherd mind for guide, The uncreated joy in you Hath lifted up my heart unto The morning stars in their first pride, And the angelic joys that glide High upon heaven-uplifted wings.
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