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36
A STILL volcano—Life—That flickered in the nightWhen it was dark enough to showWithout endangering sight.
A quiet, earthquake style,Too smoldering to suspectBy natures this side Naples.The North cannot detect
The solemn, torrid symbol,The lips that never lie,Whose hissing corals part and shutAnd cities slip away.
Therefore we do Life's laborTho' Life's reward be done—With scrupulous exactnessTo hold our senses on.
