COLLECTED POEMS
SRI AUROBINDO
CONTENTS
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The Island Grave
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OceaOcean is there and evening; the slow moan
Of the blue waves that like a shaken robe
And snowdrops pendent in each frosty lobe
Haply his feet that grind the breaking mould,
Pale child of winter, dead ere youth was old.
That even his breath feels warm upon thy face? And death admit me to the silent ways.
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