Come to the window, sweet is the n Only, from the long line of spray Where the sea meets the moon-blan Listen! you hear the grating roar Of pebbles which the waves draw ba At their return, up the high strand, Begin, and cease, and then again beg With tremulous cadence slow, and b The eternal note of sadness in.
,G lim me rin g t in , ou ast dv an
the tranquil bay.
Th e s ea is
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e is full, the m he tid t. T igh ton
present
portfolio | landscape architecture
eard it on the Ægea n, an ago H g n d it lo s e l bro oc h ug p ht So
In to hi s
“the past is never dead, it’s not even the past”
love, let us be true one another! for the world, which seems lie before us like a land of dreams, various, so beautiful, so new, th really neither joy, nor love, nor light, r certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;
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f human ow O fl d an bb e id urb t e th d in
future