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  • The Song of the Ungirt Runners
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The Song of the Ungirt Runners

Charles Hamilton Sorley

We swing ungirded hips,
And lightened are our eyes,
The rain is on our lips,
We do not run for prize.
We know not whom we trust
Nor whitherward we fare,
But we run because we must
Through the great wide air.

The waters of the seas
Are troubled as by storm.
The tempest strips the trees
And does not leave them warm.
Does the tearing tempest pause?
Do the tree-tops ask it why?
So we run without a cause
‘Neath the big bare sky.

The rain is on our lips,
We do not run for prize.
But the storm the water whips
And the wave howls to the skies.
The winds arise and strike it
And scatter it like sand,
And we run because we like it
Through the broad bright land.


Charles Hamilton Sorley

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existence running sport the unknown weather
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Charles Hamilton Sorley1895 - 1915

Charles Hamilton Sorley’s poetry and letters show remarkable talent and individuality for one who was only just past his teenage years when he was killed in 1915.
More about Charles Hamilton Sorley

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