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1837–1913

XLII.

Joaquin Miller

And all night long that upward light Lit up the sea-cow's bed below: The far sea-cows still calling so It seemed as they must call all night.

All night! there was no night. Nay, nay, There was no night. The night that lay Between that awful eve and day,— That nameless night was burned away.

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XLII. · Joaquin Miller · Poetry Cove