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sympathy poem

when the hours of day are numbered
have you heard
give me
a storm is riding on the tide
be not false
do i like it
all day to watch the blue wave curl and break
be in me as the eternal moods
before the solemn bronze saint
why then, must we see?
i love the old melodious lays
she has a clear, wind-sheltered loveliness
i have known the silence of the stars and of the sea

 



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