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The Echoing Cliff
                                             -by Andrew Young (1885-1971)

White gulls that sit and float,
Each on his shadow like a boat,
Sandpipers, oystercatchers
And herons, those grey stilted watchers,
From loch and corran rise,
And as they scream and squawk abuse
Echo from wooded cliff replies
So clearly that the dark pine boughs,
where goldcrests flit
And owls in drowsy wisdom sit,
Are filled with sea-birds and their cries.

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