Henry Wadsworth Longfellow


                   Just above yon sandy bar,
                     As the day grows fainter and dimmer,
                   Lonely and lovely, a single star
                     Lights the air with a dusky glimmer

                   Into the ocean faint and far
                     Falls the trail of its golden splendor,
                   And the gleam of that single star
                     Is ever refulgent, soft, and tender.

                   Chrysaor, rising out of the sea,
                     Showed thus glorious and thus emulous,
                   Leaving the arms of Callirrhoe,
                     Forever tender, soft, and tremulous.

                   Thus o'er the ocean faint and far
                     Trailed the gleam of his falchion brightly;
                   Is it a God, or is it a star
                     That, entranced, I gaze on nightly!


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