Distant Coasts
A squall has struck the sea afar off.
You can feel it quiver
Over the paper parasol
With which she shields her face;
In the drawn-together skirts of her robes,
As she turns to meet it.
You can feel it quiver
Over the paper parasol
With which she shields her face;
In the drawn-together skirts of her robes,
As she turns to meet it.
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