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The sky was like a waterdrop In shadow of a thorn, Clear, tranquil, beautiful, Forlorn. Lightning along its margin ran; A rumour of the sea Rose in profundity and sank Into infinity. Lofty and few the elms, the stars In the vast boughs most bright; I stood a dreamer in a dream In the unstirring night. Not wonder, worship, not even peace Seemed in my heart to be: Only the memory of one, Of all most dead to me. |