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Show THE ROLLING EARTH. Tired of the star shine, Impatient of noon. Spinning through dawn on a search for the moon, Craving the day and then longing for night, Ever I flee from the dark, from the light. vl Questing the seasons I circle the sunj ti Boreas wearies me winter, have donel tsC "IC Zephyr In vain lays his hand on my breast, l" Autumn allureth haste, haste with the questl Children of men, whom I brought unto birth, Cry not for peace ye are Dust of the Earth. Lydla Schuyler, In American Magazine. |