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Rh They had come in the night, and the storm, winging back to my breast These hopes that were hopeless, these dreams that were ever as dreams; Rending my heart with sharp beaks and their passionate screams, Leashing my soul with the storm from its haven of rest.

Night long did I put them away, did they turn again, Till the tumultuous waves bore them out in their creepy recess, Tossed them back on the reef with a deadly pretence of caress; Flung up by the hand of the sea, beaten back by the lash of the rain.

White birds, it is over and done, your last passion has paled; The world has no place for your flight nor my heart for your screams. O hopes that were hopeless, sweet dreams that were ever as dreams, Let go! get back to your graves, you have fought and have failed. 9