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Crest of a Crown 310 I fall as the slow sea crests Just as hulking, white snow-tree nests, When chopping, are timber tops toppling: Waves crash as a sea bough dropping I climb as the cliff-end peaks Whither summit the stiff, bent creeks Whose frowning, ice-crystal crown crowning Holds down my heavy head drowning I sink as the pale, rough moon’s Sloughing tides drain the stale lagoons, When flowing, brute undertow towing, Know elsewhere the white waves growing 1 Comments. |
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