My soul is sailing through the sea, But the Past is heavy and hindereth me. The Past hath crusted cumbrous shells That hold the flesh of cold sea-mells About my soul. The huge waves wash, the high waves roll, Each barnacle clingeth and worketh dole And hindereth me from sailing! Old Past let go, and drop i` the sea Till fathomless waters cover thee! For I am living but thou art dead; Thou drawest back, I strive ahead The Day to find. Thy shells unbind! Night comes behind, I needs must hurry with the wind And trim me best for sailing.SourceThe script ran 0.002 seconds.
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