Mountain And SeaThey bring it not to me,__ The craggy heights are cold and dead Give me the tossing sea Too like the prison of our life, These cliffs unyielding stand; They stir the passion of a strife They cannot understand. But where the breakers strike the bar And rolling billows foam, Where tides come creeping in from far, And bring the sailor home,__ There, where the sunset lights the sails That seek another shore, Would all my longing might avail To draw me evermore ___Elizabeth T. Spring
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