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There open fanes and gaping graves Yawn level with the luminous waves; But not the riches there that lie In each idol's diamond eye-- Not the gaily-jewelled dead Tempt the waters from their bed; For no ripples curl, alas! Along that wilderness of glass-- No swellings tell that winds may be Upon some far-off happier sea-- No heavings hint that winds have been On seas less hideously serene. -Edgar Allan Poe (1809-1849), The City in the Sea |