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When I am drifting
On the shores of sleep,
Or walking in the cool
Cathedral shade of trees;
When I stand waist deep
In moted murmurings
Of poppy-sprinkled seas.
When I watch the red kite's
Wingtips beat its lonely trace,
Impulsed against the blue.
It is then, my Love,
That I see your face;
And my sequestered heart
Turns, once more, to you.
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