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1863–1952

III

George Santayana

Your ship lies anchored in the peaceful bight Until a kinder wind unfurl her sail; Your docile spirit, winged by this gale, Hath at the dawning fled into the light.

And I half know why heaven deemed it right Your youth, and this my joy in youth, should fail God hath them still, for ever they avail, Eternity hath borrowed that delight.

For long ago I taught my thoughts to run Where all the great things live that lived of yore, And in eternal quiet float and soar; There all my loves are gathered into one,

Where change is not, nor parting any more, Nor revolution of the moon and sun.

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III · George Santayana · Poetry Cove