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The
Book of the Native
by
Charles G.D. Roberts
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The
Unsleeping
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I soothe
to unimagined sleep
The sunless bases of the deep.
And then I stir the aching tide
That gropes in its reluctant side.
I heave aloft the smoking hill;
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5 |
To silent
peace its throes I still.
But ever at its heart of fire
I lurk, an unassuaged desire.
I wrap me in the sightless germ
An instant or an endless term;
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10 |
And
still its atoms are my care,
Dispersed in ashes or in air.
I hush the comets one by one
To sleep for ages in the sun;
The sun resumes before my face
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15 |
| His
circuit of the shores of space.
The mount, the star, the germ, the deep,
They all shall wake, they all shall sleep.
Time, like a flurry of wild rain,
Shall drift across the darkened pane.
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20 |
Space, in the dim predestined hour,
Shall crumble like a ruined tower.
I only, with unfaltering eye,
Shall watch the dreams of God go by. |
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