I sat upon grassy linen Looking far into my thoughts Among deep and dark forests Lining a hazy grayish loch And there inside foreshadow dealt A vision to perception A prophetic form of imagery Manifest in shadow obscure And destiny falls to ruin No discourse but archaic filterings Of black and cryptic signs None helping a bleak understanding Of things not yet to come In the misty drizzle Entranced so deep in mind I saw an image foreboding Of the world which rests outside I saw the sea of tranquillity At rest in the arms of the storm And destiny falls to ruin
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