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Wind whines and whines the shingle,
The crazy pier-stakes groan;
A senile sea numbers each single
Slime-silvered stone.

From whining wind and colder
Grey sea I wrap him warm
And touch his trembling fine-boned shoulder
And boyish arm.

Around us fear, descending
Darkness of fear above;
And in my heart how deep unending
Ache of love.

James Joyce

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