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christian poem

i am weary of being bitter and weary of being wise
why so sad my lovely one?
i've won the race
my sorrow, when she's here with me
pushing out, struggling vainly
rising moon has hid the stars
blossoms of babies
it was a tall young oysterman
this is the ship of pearl
a mile behind
sweet and strong
o fair and stately maid, whose eyes

 



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