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1872–1943

SEA-MAD

Cale Young Rice

Three waves of the sea came up on the wind to me! One said: “Away! he is dead! Upon my foam I have flung his head!

Go back to your cote, you shall never wed!— ( Nor he! )” Three waves of the sea came up on the wind to me. Two brake.

The third with a quake Cried loud, “O maid, I'll find for thy sake His dead lost body: prepare his wake!” ( And back it plunged to the sea! )

Three waves of the sea came up on the wind to me. One bore — And swept on the shore — His pale, pale face I shall kiss no more!

Ah, woe to women death passes o'er! ( Woe's me! )

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SEA-MAD · Cale Young Rice · Poetry Cove