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up the crag, 'twixt sea and sky,

Where winds tempestuous, blowing by,

Leave giant boulders swept and bare:

Where frequent lightnings fitful flare,

And petrels sound their stormy cry,—

I found a bluebell, sweet and shy,

Lifting its head complacently,

As guarded by the tenderest care—

Far up the crag.

And often now, when fear draws nigh,

In thought I stand 'twixt sea and sky,