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BARBARA
A night’s fog for the fisher-boats,
A night’s fog for the sea—
Night on night, day on day
A life’s fog for me.
III
North I turn, but never his face I find;
South,—but it is not there!
Night cannot lull my sorrow asleep, nor dawn
Awaken my despair.
But, oft-times, twixt the rim of the dying day,
And the rim of the darkening sea,
Hope spies the pearly gleam of that far-off Sail,
Will give him back to me!
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