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Wednesday, October 12, 2016

Poem by CARL SANDBURG

Lost

 
Carl Sandburg
                                     
Desolate and lone
All night long on the lake
Where fog trails and mist creeps,
The whistle of a boat
Calls and cries unendingly,
Like some lost child
In tears and trouble
Hunting the harbor’s breast
And the harbor’s eyes.
 
 

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