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She wears a gown of morning mist sandals made from rushes There is a harp of light in her breast. She takes ribbons of colour from the summer rainbow to entwine her saffron hair. She breathes the tremulous air where wild swans have flown and bares her feet to walk upon the waters her hair flowing like flames in a hearth. She finds the alto of valleys the soprano of hills Earth is swarming with her song.

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