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The morning air blows fresh on him;
The waves are dancing in his sight;
The sea-birds call, and wheel, and skim,
O blessed morning light!
He doth not hear their joyous call; he sees
No beauty in the wave, nor feels the breeze.
The waves are dancing in his sight;
The sea-birds call, and wheel, and skim,
O blessed morning light!
He doth not hear their joyous call; he sees
No beauty in the wave, nor feels the breeze.
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