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Poem by Albert Laighton The Wreck The Ocean sang to my heart last night, When I folded my hands in rest, A tune as sweet as a mother sings To the child upon her breast. But to-day it wails like a funeral dirge As they tell, in the quiet town. How the English ship in sight of land With a hundred souls went down. Albert Laighton Albert Laighton's other poems: ![]() 1217 Views |
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