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They sailed away from Provincetown Bay In the fireless light of the sun, And they came at night to a havened height, And the journey at last was done. With rain and sleet were the tall masts iced, And frosty and dark was the air, But they looked from the crystal sails to Christ As they moored in the harbor fair. The sky was cold and gray, And there were no ancient bells to ring, No priests to chant, no choirs to sing, No chapel of baron, lord or king, That gray, cold winter day. - [Forefathers Day] Each loss has its compensation There is healing for every pain, But the bird with a broken pinion Never soars so high again. - The Broken Pinion [Compensation]
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