“The Lunatic SINBAD THE SAILOROn dark winter nights in the country,The poor and the old keepA single light lit in their homes,Weak and not easy to see,Like someone who had rowed his boatBeyond the sight of land,And had lowered his oarsTo rest and light a cigaretteWith the sea quiet around him—Or would they be dark fieldsMade quiet by the falling snow?
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