Bushes raw and bald, spring-keen brush of blackthorne and haw,
Rushflutters of aweing birdflight; thrushes and blackcaps alighting.
Delight’s zenith reposes in every leaf
The heath we keep well well keeps
Forest and dwellers rude healthed
We logged all that went on
From lop-needing treetops
To bottoms soggy and mossen, frog-hot rotten logs.
Alchemisland 
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