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40 | In This Our World And wings— Wings that unfold With such wide sweep before your would-be hold— Such glittering sweep of whiteness—sun on snow— Such mighty plumes—strong-ribbed, strong-webbed—strong-knit to go From earth to heaven! Hear the air flow back In their wide track! Feel the sweet wind these wings displace Beat on your face! See the great arc of light like rising rockets trail They leave in leaving— They avail— These wings—for flight! The Heart of the Water O the ache in the heart of the water that lies Underground in the desert, unopened, unknown, While the seeds lie unbroken, the blossoms unblown, And the traveller wanders—the traveller dies! O the joy in the heart of the water that flows From the well in the desert,—a desert no more,— Bird-music and blossoms and harvest in store, And the white shrine that showeth the traveler knows! The Ship The sunlight is mine! And the sea! And the four wild winds that blow! The winds of heaven that whistle free— They are but slaves to carry me Wherever I choose to go! Fire for a power inside! Air for a pathway free! I traverse the earth in conquest wide; The sea is my servant! The sea is my bride! And the elements wait on me! . . . . . . . . In dull green light, down-filtered sick and slow Through miles of heavy water overhead, With miles of heavy water yet below, A ship lies, dead. Shapeless and broken, swayed from side to side, The helpless driftwood of an unknown tide. ...

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