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BATHING RHYME
Looking through the sunshot deep,
Where our sea-maid lies asleep,
Throat upflung, as white as lime,
With the clear waves keeping time
To the heaving of her breast—
Here we see to veil her rest
Every jewel-tint of green:
Jade, smaragdus, tourmaline,
Beryl and green sapphire's light,
Streaky solid malachite,
Chrysoprase and peacock-sheen
Of the opal's shifting green—
Patched and barred with purple dye
Where the rocks like watch-dogs lie,
Waiting crouched beneath the wave,
Hungry, cruel as the grave. . . .
Colour floods our souls until
They must brim and overspill,
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