It billow swishes in the wood
ye the dawn carpenter tool
That makes all dreams come true
And mend the broken ones.
How can you do no right
when ye are the savior
from the bitter nightmare
Your spares is the dew atmosphere
Ye perpetrate with no harmer nor nail
But wind, light, calmness all steady
To comfort my soul when in destitute
The first born
the devoutness in my zeal
and the food aroma in my meal.
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