The brow sank deeper that made the hill raise,
Gleaming a sun yonder beckons attention mine,
Great the drive, for that journey my previous
Linger me here so better the ways one fought
Abruptly stops at the broke and slowly turns,
Fairly shaped and soon walks away,
The waves ahead call her name, but no number;
As soon as she passes the waves,
She is the next wave to call another.

Mysterious, Nature, Poetry, Works
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