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The
White Wampum
by
Emily Pauline Johnson
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ERIE
WATERS
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A DASH
of yellow sand,
Wind-scattered and sun-tanned;
Some waves that curl and cream along the margin
of the strand;
And, creeping close to these
Long shores that lounge at ease,
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Old
Erie rocks and ripples to a fresh sou’-western
breeze.
A sky of blue and gray;
Some stormy clouds that play
At scurrying up with ragged edge, then laughing
blow away,
Just leaving in their trail
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Some
snatches of a gale:
To whistling summer winds we lift a single daring
sail. [Page 41]
O! wind so sweet and swift,
O! danger-freighted gift
Bestowed on Erie with her waves that foam and fall
and lift,
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We laugh
in your wild face,
And break into a race
With flying clouds and tossing gulls that weave
and interlace. [Page 42]
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