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The Steady Tide

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

How fast the tide encroaches
How steadily rolls in
Underneath a pale blue sky
Yet still a hue of tin
A misty line of far Welsh hills
Beyond the pier's outline
Pagoda stands majestic
In early Spring sunshine
Awaiting for the steamers
And crowds to go on board
Ready for the trips down coast
And memories not yet stored.

 

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