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Haggard, H. Rider (Henry Rider), 1856-1925

"She"

Job
stationed himself at the bow, Mahomed kept his post at the tiller, and I
sat on a seat in the middle of the boat close to where Leo was lying.
The moon went slowly down in chastened loveliness; she departed like
some sweet bride into her chamber, and long veil-like shadows crept up
the sky through which the stars peeped shyly out. Soon, however, they
too began to pale before a splendour in the east, and then the quivering
footsteps of the dawn came rushing across the new-born blue, and shook
the high stars from their places. Quieter and yet more quiet grew the
sea, quiet as the soft mist that brooded on her bosom, and covered up
her troubling, as the illusive wreaths of sleep brood upon a pain-racked
mind, causing it to forget its sorrow. From the east to the west
sped the angels of the Dawn, from sea to sea, from mountain-top to
mountain-top, scattering light with both their hands. On they sped out
of the darkness, perfect, glorious, like spirits of the just breaking
from the tomb; on, over the quiet sea, over the low coastline, and the
swamps beyond, and the mountains above them; over those who slept in
peace and those who woke in sorrow; over the evil and the good; over the
living and the dead; over the wide world and all that breathes or has
breathed thereon.


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