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The eternal laughter, and other poems

AVE COMETA

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Glorious is thy pathway Through the stars of fire, For a port that hath no reaching, With a speed that cannot tire. Tell me, Comet, He who launched thee,— Doth He love a man in pain, Smaller than the glowing dust In thy wake of flaming mane? Comet fearful, will He save me,— He who plays with such as thee?

Illustration from The eternal laughter, and other poems
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