...Lives...
We stand on little Islands of the Present, Aloof, remote, alone. The trembling ghosts of countless generations Touch not their own. Far in the mists of entities that hower IVraith-like, entranced, serene, . : Perchance a silver gleam of kinship quiz vers, One moment seen. All that has been, all that has called our being Inlo its living state, Floats in the distance, dim and ungcailing, Calin, cold as Fate. Unguarded by the past, wrest from. the future, Rim-bordered by a sigh, The shivering soul, wrapped in a mist oF longing, Must live and die. .
Beaumont
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/periodicals/RADREC19320708.2.49
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Radio Record, Volume V, Issue 52, 8 July 1932, Unnumbered Page
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95...Lives... Radio Record, Volume V, Issue 52, 8 July 1932, Unnumbered Page
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