IN THE OPEN | [ 



Somewhere on this phantom ocean rides a 

 phantom bark with all sails set, which reflect, now 

 a rose-pink, now the faintest imaginable golden 

 sheen, and disappear in the dusk. Perchance 

 there flits over the mind a haunting recollection 

 of that lost sea of childhood that sea of virgin 

 impressions to vanish also into the dusk of 

 oblivion. 



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