I feel Very much
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A pale enchanted moon is sinking low Behind the dunes that
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As my letter must be brief, I'll at once state my belief,
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And for fear of Him the keepers did shake and become as dead men. -Matthew 28 and 4
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A gallant city has been builded far
In the pied heaven,
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When the dark comes down, oh, the wind is on the sea
With lisping laugh and whimper to the red reef's threnody,
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There is never a wind to sing o'er the sea
On its dimpled bosom that holdeth in fee
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There's a grayness over the harbor like fear on the face of a woman,
The sob of the waves has a sound akin to a woman's cry,
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When the salt wave laps on the long, dim shore,
And frets the reef with its windy sallies,
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Lo, find we here when the ripe day is o'er
A kingdom of enchantment by the shore!
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When the sun sets over the long blue wave
I spring from my couch of rest,
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Hark, oh hark the elfin laughter
All the little waves along,
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There's a piping wind from a sunrise shore
Blowing over a silver sea,
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Out of the fires of the sunset come we again to our own
We have girdled the world in our sailing under many an orient star;
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I
Soft is the sky in the mist-kirtled east,
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I smile o'er the wrinkled blue
Lo! the sea is fair,
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There's a hush and stillness calm and deep,
For the waves have wooed all the winds to sleep
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Far in the mellow western sky,
Above the restless harbor bar,
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When the lucent skies of morning flush with dawning rose once more,
And waves of golden glory break adown the sunrise shore,
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Last night a pale young Moon was wed
Unto the amorous, eager Sea;
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Lo, I have loved thee long, long have I yearned and entreated!
Tell me how I may win thee, tell me how I must woo.
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We shall launch our shallop on waters blue from some dim primrose shore,
We shall sail with the magic of dusk behind and enchanted coasts before,
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Twilight and I went hand in hand,
As lovers walk in shining Mays,
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Come, rest awhile, and let us idly stray
In glimmering valleys, cool and far away.
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The moon comes up o'er the deeps of the woods,
And the long, low dingles that hide in the hills,
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Now on the hill
The fitful wind is so still
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Last night I looked across the hills
And through an arch of darkling pine
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Hark, I hear a robin calling!
List, the wind is from the south!
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Let us put awhile away
All the cares of work-a-day,
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O, wind! what saw you in the South,
In lilied meadows fair and far?
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