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The gull has found her place on shore;
The sun gone down again to rest;
And all is still but ocean's roar:
There stands the man unblest.
But, see, he moves,—he turns, as asking where
His mates:—Why looks he with that piteous stare?
The sun gone down again to rest;
And all is still but ocean's roar:
There stands the man unblest.
But, see, he moves,—he turns, as asking where
His mates:—Why looks he with that piteous stare?
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