O pale green sea,
With long, pale, purple clouds above -
What lies in me like weight of love ?
What dies in me
With utter grief, because there comes no sign
Through the sun-raying West, or the dim sea-line ?
O salted air,
Blown round the rocky headland still,
What calls me there from cove and hill?
What calls me fair
From thee, the first-born of the youthful night,
Or in the waves is coming through the dusk twilight ?
O yellow Star,
Quivering upon the rippling tide -
Sendest so far to one that sigh'd?
Bendest thou, Star,
Above, where the shadows of the dead have rest
And constant silence, with a message from the blest?
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Comments about this poem (Aeolian Harp by William Allingham )
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(22 August 1893 - 7 June 1967)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
Rainer Maria Rilke
(4 December 1875 – 29 December 1926)
(30 December 1865 – 18 January 1936)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
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