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THE GREY LAKE
For the wind-scourged water
Would flee the ships,
And the mud would open
Her soft smooth lips.
So the isles are sacred
From alien tread,
Since the slime can swallow
And keep her dead.
Who can know her secrets?
The blue sky might—
(Cloudless-hot in daytime,
Star-gemmed at night).
To and fro for ever
The water swings,
And the gulls fly over,
For they have wings.
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