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    Vita Nuova

    by Oscar Wilde
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    I stood by the unvintageable sea
    Till the wet waves drenched face and hair with spray;
    The long red fires of the dying day
    Burned in the west; the wind piped drearily;
    And to the land the clamorous gulls did flee:
    'Alas!' I cried, 'my life is full of pain,
    And who can garner fruit or golden grain
    From these waste fields which travail ceaselessly!'
    My nets gaped wide with many a break and flaw,
    Nathless I threw them as my final cast
    Into the sea, and waited for the end.
    When lo! a sudden glory! and I saw
    From the black waters of my tortured past
    The argent splendour of white limbs ascend!
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