Spirit Air

Fair freshness of the God-breathed spirit air,

     Pass through my soul, and make it strong to love;

     Wither with gracious cold what demons dare

     Shoot from my hell into my world above;

     Let them drop down, like leaves the sun doth sear,

     And flutter far into the inane and bare,

     Leaving my middle-earth calm, wise, and clear. 
—George MacDonald

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