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1865–1940

II

Laurence Alma-Tadema

My Friend of Friends! in you my heart's at rest, That wandered homeless as the ocean-wind Hither and thither, seeking still to find Some refuge. As a ship that east and west

Roams havenless, and quits each shore distressed, So wandered I, so left each land behind, Bearing my soul as helmsman, sage but blind; And still we journeyed on at Fate's behest.

But now I hold my harbour, and the ship Casts anchor here. The unnested winds that blow May reach me still and rock me to and fro. What matter? Here is Peace that bids me slip

Closer and closer to the enfolding shore, Lower the sails, and stay for evermore.

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II · Laurence Alma-Tadema · Poetry Cove