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HERBERT PRICE.
MOODS.
When on the ocean's pulsing breast
I lie in wonder's heart arest,
And hear her cosmic music roll,
As from some mist-enshrouded goal
Enchanted voices of applause
Float up to visionary shores,
Then Hope, awakened from her dream,
Renews again her sheeny gleam.
When softly from the breathing earth
I see the flowers having birth,
When buds appear, and flowers soon
Enrich the golden afternoon
With scents and colours sweet and bright
Till hearts absorb a new delight,
Then all the waste and drift of things
Is covered by Love's brooding wings.
Herbert Price.