_And the rest, a few, Escape their prison and depart On the wide ocean of life anew. There the freed prisoner, where’er his heart Listeth, will sail; Nor doth he know how there prevail, Despotic on that sea, Trade winds which cross it from eternity._ Out in the London Square a dismal November fog mingled with the gathering twilight, and blotted out the trees and the opposite houses.…
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