One with the ruined sunset, The strange forsaken sands, What is it waits, and wanders, And signs with desparate hands? What is it calls in the twilight - Calls as its chance were vain? The cry of a gull sent seaward Or the voice of an ancient pain? The red ghost of the sunset, It walks them as its own, These dreary and desolate reaches . . . But O, that it walked alone!SourceThe script ran 0.001 seconds.
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