Stray Birds
(THINGS LOOK phantastic in this dimness)
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THINGS LOOK phantastic in this dimness of the duskthe spires whose bases are lost in the dark and tree tops like blots of ink. I shall wait for the morning and wake up to see thy city in the light.
THE POET'S MIND floats and dances on the waves of life amidst the voices of wind and water. Now when the sun has set and the darkened sky draws down upon the sea like drooping lashes upon a weary eye it is time to take away his pen, and let his thoughts sink into the bottom of the deep amid the eternal secret of that silence.