There steals through my coldness a fire, 
Between my slow words is a sword, 
One lit by the heart of desire, 
One sharp in the hand of the lord ; 
To these that sink, sleep, and expire, your welcome 
accord. 
 
With winds and white seas for your raiment 
Your stature immutably stands : 
My love, with no claim, as a claimant 
Came seeking out truth in the sands, 
Found truth, and must place in poor payment this 
book in your hands. 
 
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