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A Grey Day

 Grey drizzling mists the moorlands drape, 
Rain whitens the dead sea, 
From headland dim to sullen cape 
Grey sails creep wearily.
I know not how that merchantman Has found the heart; but 'tis her plan Seaward her endless course to shape.
Unreal as insects that appall A drunkard's peevish brain, O'er the grey deep the dories crawl, Four-legged, with rowers twain: Midgets and minims of the earth, Across old ocean's vasty girth Toiling--heroic, comical! I wonder how that merchant's crew Have ever found the will! I wonder what the fishers do To keep them toiling still! I wonder how the heart of man Has patience to live out its span, Or wait until its dreams come true.

Poem by William Vaughn Moody
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