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C.D. Warner, et al., comp.  The Library of the World’s Best Literature.
An Anthology in Thirty Volumes.  1917.
 
Burnt Ships
By Helen Hunt Jackson (1830–1885)
 
O LOVE, sweet Love, who came with rosy sail
  And foaming prow across the misty sea!
  O Love, brave Love, whose faith was full and free
That lands of sun and gold, which could not fail,
Lay in the west; that bloom no wintry gale        5
  Could blight, and eyes whose love thine own should be,
  Called thee, with steadfast voice of prophecy
To shores unknown!
                O Love, poor Love, avail
  Thee nothing now thy faiths, thy braveries;
There is no sun, no bloom; a cold wind strips        10
The bitter foam from off the wave where dips
  No more thy prow; the eyes are hostile eyes;
  The gold is hidden; vain thy tears and cries:
O Love, poor Love, why didst thou burn thy ships?
 
 
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