The Souls of Black Folk · ¶27
Unresting water, there shall never be rest Till the last moon droop and the last tide fail, And the fire of the end begin to burn in the west; And the heart shall be weary and wonder and cry like the sea, All life long crying without avail, As the water all night long is crying to me.Read in context ›
Project Gutenberg ebook 408
Project Gutenberg ebook 408
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