< Page:Collected poems vol 1 de la mare.djvu
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TRUCE

FAR inland here Death's pinions mocked the roar
⁠Of English seas;
We sleep to wake no more,
⁠Hushed, and at ease;
Till sound a trump, shore on to echoing shore,
Rouse from a peace, unwonted then to war,

⁠Us and our enemies.

36

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