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Through the far cool distance | I dream tonight | At Sunset | The seaweeds cling with flesh-like fingers. The rocks get shelter that the sands deny |
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With pools of purple colouring the skies | The pools low lying, dank with mould. Glint through their mildews like large caps of gold | Northern Skies Alive with Flames | There are fires on Lulu Island and the sky is opalescent |
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The scent of burning leaves, the campfire blaze | | What saw you on your flight today Crows, awinging your homeward way | Reflections from the gold and glowing light |
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To Salish waves that fling their spray | The rocks beneath your feet | Great has been the run | So gently creeps the morning through the heavy air |
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Uncertain clouds, half-high, suspend | Let me but feel the pulse of nature’s soul | And when at eventide the sun | Tonight the west o’er brims with warmest dyes |
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Sounds of the days of summer Murmur and die away | Alone, alone with God’s glory earth that seems | In forest arms the night will soonest creep | Where the waterfalls and forest voice forever their duet |
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Where the river mists are rising | 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 |
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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 |