< Page:Poems and ballads (IA balladspoems00swinrich).pdf
What of the night? The night is full, the tide
Since thou art not as these are, go thy ways;
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A WASTED VIGIL.
59
XIII.
Storms inland, the most ancient rocks divide;
Yet some endure, and bow nor head nor knee;
Couldst thou not watch with me?
XIV.
Thou hast no part in all my nights and days.
Lie still, sleep on, be glad—as such things be;
Thou couldst not watch with me.
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