Where?

I called you through the silent night Across the brooding deep, I sought you in the shadowland From out the world — asleep;

No answer echoed to my call, And now my way I thread About the lowly mounds that rise Among the silent dead.

Though voiceless, you will hear my call, Your soul will heed my cry. Will rise, and mock the prison where Your bones recumbent lie.

Georgia Douglas Johnson

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I called you the silent night
Across the deep,
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