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American Annals of the Deaf

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When I Am Dead: The Writings of George M. Teegarden

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A million gleams dance on the wave
            At near the close of day,
While our good ship so stout and brave
            Speeds forward on her way.
Across the bosom of the lake
The sun declines midst pine and brake.

The picture clouds in gold and blue
            Spread outward south and north;
A streaming sheen like golden dew
            Brings exclamations forth;
The wavelets dancing in the glow
Sparkle and gleam—a brilliant show.

The full blown moon hangs far above
            The waves that roll beneath,
A harbinger of hope and love—
            Its gleams the wavelet’s
            wreath—
And here upon the inland main
Smiles on the sailor’s fond refrain.


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