I Say, I Sigh, I Sow #10

Time is swift and many things
Crowd between the dark and dark.
So say: what wouldst, if thou couldst,
Take treasured to the nerveless grave?
Two things? Aye, and something of the sea:
A storm, and westing sun,
And, at early day, cold air
And the whirr of wild wings.

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