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Poem of the Week

The Flaming Terrapin

By Roy Campbell

How often have I lost this fervent mood,

And gone down dingy thoroughfares to brood

On evils like my own from day to day:

“Life is a dusty corridor,” I say,

“Shut at both ends.” But far across the plain,

Old Ocean growls and tosses his grey mane,

Pawing the rocks in all his old unrest

Or lifting lazily on some white crest

His pale foam-feathers for the moon to burn –

Then to my veins I feel new sap return,

Strength tightens up my sinews long grown dull,

And in the old charred crater of the skull

Light strikes the slow somnambulistic mind

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