Sand
Sterile sister though I be,
Twinborn to the barren Sea,
Yet of all things fruitful we
Wait the end; and presently,
Lo, they are not! then to me
(Children to the nurse's knee)
Come the billows fresh and free,
Breathing Immortality.
Twinborn to the barren Sea,
Yet of all things fruitful we
Wait the end; and presently,
Lo, they are not! then to me
(Children to the nurse's knee)
Come the billows fresh and free,
Breathing Immortality.
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