Untitled Dover Beach
Death is the thing with feathered wings
Here on these rocky Dover cliffs
Against which breaks perpetual wave upon wave
Melting away this earth-stone base
Atop which rests the sky
Sleepwalkers, walking with lead-laden feet
They dream only of falling, falling
Let us, love, dream of one another
Beneath the white gulls crying
And the moon-tides dying
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