Christina Rossetti

It is a land with neither night nor day,

Nor heat nor cold, nor any wind, nor rain,

Nor hills nor valleys, but one even plain

Stretches thro' long unbroken miles away:

While thro' the sluggish air a twilight grey

Broodeth; no moons or seasons wax and wane,

No ebb and flow are there along the main,

No bud-time, no leaf-falling, there for aye:—

No ripple on the sea, no shifting sand,

No beat of wings to stir the stagnant space,

No pulse of life thro' all the loveless land:

And loveless sea; no trace of days before,

No guarded home, no toil-won resting place,

No future hope, no fear for evermore.


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