Shadows (Howe)/Unconquered

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UNCONQUERED
HIGH o'er the city's roofs a storm-blown gull,
Driven landward from the sea,
Battles against the winds without a lull,
Yet inland farther, ever back,
Helpless is tossed with flying rack;
But, messenger of constancy to me,
I joy to see him facing ocean still,—
 ​As beaten souls through storm and night
May changeless face the hidden light
By Heaven-sent power and strength of steadfast will.

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