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Radclyffe Hall

(1880 - 1943 / Bournemouth, Hampshire)

In Darkness


Oh! that the night were passed, and morn,
Made lovely by the joy of spring,
Would flood these sombre clouds with dawn,
Oh! that some hopeful bird would sing,
And in his tiny feathered throat
Contain the answer vast, remote,
My spirit seeks in endless spheres
Of thought, and prayer, yet never hears !

Submitted: Wednesday, August 13, 2014

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