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In the pull of the wind I stand, lonely, On the deck of a ship, rising, falling, Wild night around me, wild water under me, Whipped by the storm, screaming and calling. Earth is hostile and the sea hostile, Why do I look for a place to rest? I must fight always and die fighting With fear an unhealing wound in my breast.
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At Sea
In the pull of the wind I stand, lonely, On the deck of a ship, rising, falling, Wild night around me, wild water under me, Whipped by the storm, screaming and calling. Earth is hostile and the sea hostile, Why do I look for a place to rest? I must fight always and die fighting With fear an unhealing wound in my breast.
Sara Teasdale
1884 - 1933/Female/American