beauty is cast by the sea, a barren rock, beauty is set about with wrecks of ships, upon our coast, death keeps the shallows—death waits clutching toward us from the deeps. Beauty is set apart; the winds that slash its beach, swirl the coarse sand upward toward the rocks. [29] Beauty is set apart from the islands and from Greece. VI In my garden the winds have beaten the ripe lilies;
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