Lost
LOST
When she is away
My bubble of life will sink
And move but heavily in the sea’s sway,
Her return an eternity’s blink,
My sphere all but lost.
Horned-helmeted Norsemen at night
Drifting too far south o’er the horizon,
The peaks of Spitzbergen out of sight,
Watched without hope their lodestone,
And longed to see the stars of home.
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