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| THE FRESH savannas of the Sangamon | |
| Here rise in gentle swells, and the long grass | |
| Is mixed with rustling hazels. Scarlet tufts | |
| Are glowing in the green, like flakes of fire; | |
| The wanderers of the prairie know them well, | 5 |
| And call that brilliant flower the painted cup. | |
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| Now, if thou art a poet, tell me not | |
| That these bright chalices were tinted thus | |
| To hold the dew for fairies, when they meet | |
| On moonlight evenings in the hazel bowers, | 10 |
| And dance till they are thirsty. Call not up, | |
| Amid this fresh and virgin solitude, | |
| The faded fancies of an elder world; | |
| But leave these scarlet cups to spotted moths | |
| Of June, and glistening flies, and humming-birds | 15 |
| To drink from, when on all these boundless lawns | |
| The morning sun looks hot. Or let the wind | |
| Oerturn in sport their ruddy brims, and pour | |
| A sudden shower upon the strawberry plant, | |
| To swell the reddening fruit that even now | 20 |
| Breathes a slight fragrance from the sunny slope. | |
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| But thou art of a gayer fancy. Well, | |
| Let then the gentle Manitou of flowers, | |
| Lingering amid the bloomy waste he loves, | |
| Though all his swarthy worshippers are gone, | 25 |
| Slender and small, his rounded cheek all brown | |
| And ruddy with the sunshine,let him come | |
| On summer mornings, when the blossoms wake, | |
| And part with little hands the spiky grass; | |
| And touching, with his cherry lips, the edge | 30 |
| Of these bright beakers, drain the gathered dew. | |
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