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Through the far cool distance | At Sunset | The seaweeds cling with flesh-like fingers. The rocks get shelter that the sands deny | With pools of purple colouring the skies |
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Northern Skies Alive with Flames | There are fires on Lulu Island and the sky is opalescent | The scent of burning leaves, the campfire blaze | |
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What saw you on your flight today Crows, awinging your homeward way | The pools low lying, dank with mould. Glint through their mildews like large caps of gold | To Salish waves that fling their spray | So gently creeps the morning through the heavy air |
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Uncertain clouds, half-high, suspend | Tonight the west o’er brims with warmest dyes | I dream tonight | Sounds of the days of summer Murmur and die away |
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The rocks beneath your feet | Alone, alone with God’s glory earth that seems | Great has been the run | Reflections from the gold and glowing light |
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And when at eventide the sun | In forest arms the night will soonest creep | Where the waterfalls and forest voice forever their duet | Where the river mists are rising |
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And call across the fading silver night As something calls to me | The far, far Trees that cover The brownish hills with needles green and gold | The sun outbreaking in his farewell hour | Let me but feel the pulse of nature’s soul |
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| And the wailing pine trees murmur with their voice attuned to hers | Where the rushes lift | Where the very silence slumbers |
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Beneath me far Where not a ripple moves to mar |