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Excerpt from Visions
As those ghost voices cry out to me from the dust, I am aware Of strange stirrings in the blood that ¿ows in my veins and once ¿owed in other veins than mine. I am conscious of blind yearnings, of unyielded Obediences, Of unrendered love, and my hands go groping forth as if to clasp unseen hands that are stretched to me from impenetrable dark; even as now, when I am warm with life, the cold ghost Of me, that is to be, stretches wan hands Of yearning towards my child's unborn chil dren whom I may never see.
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