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Turner, "The fighting temeraire tugged to her last berth to be broken up, 1838 (1839)The gold stars are sleeping,The mirror-pond trembles,The dawn light comes creepingAnd heaven's net reddens.The birch-tree smiles sleepily,Her silk locks free-flowing,Green earrings are rustling,And silver dew glowing.Tall nettles by the fencingTheir bright pearls are flautingAnd...
