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1886–1950

III

John Gould Fletcher

We are drifting slowly, you and I, To where the clouds are lifting High-fretted towers in the sky: Palaces of ivory,

Which we look at dreamily. Over our sail Frail white clouds, Drift as slowly

Over the undulant pale blue silk of the water, As we. We are racing swiftly, you and I, The sun darts one firm track

Through the blue-black Of the crinkled water. Gold spirals spattering, flashing, The water heaves and curls away at our bow,

A mad fish splashing. We are rocked together, you and I, To this undulant movement. White cloud with blue water blent,

Cloud dipping down to wave its lazy head, Wave curling under cloud its cloudy blue. I and you, All alone, alone, at last.

I hold you fast.

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III · John Gould Fletcher · Poetry Cove