Page:Thirty poems (IA thirtypoems00bryarich).pdf/95

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A DAY DREAM.
89
As thus they spoke, with wavering sweep
 Floated the graceful forms away;
Dimmer and dimmer, through the deep,
 I saw the white arms gleam and play.

Fainter and fainter, on mine ear,
 Fell the soft accents of their speech,
Till I, at last, could only hear
 The waves run murmuring up the beach.

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