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Hope


Lone and dismal; hushed and dark,
Upon the waves floats and empty bark.

The stars go out; the raindrops fall,
And through the night comes a ghostly call--

My lone and dismal life's a-float
Upon the seas like an empty boat.

Above the heights where the sea-gulls soar,
The thunder lifts its resonant roar.

Like a jagged arrow a flash is sent,
That splits the clouds with a double rent.

And just beyond my bark that drifts,
Moonbeams steal through the kindly rifts.

Written by Arna Bontemps (1902-1973)

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