Loveliness
and stillness
clasped hands
in the bedroom,
and among the shrouded jugs
and sheeted chairs
even the prying
of the wind,
and the soft nose
of the clammy sea airs,
rubbing, snuffling,
iterating, and reiterating
their questions—
“Will you fade?
Will you perish?”—
scarcely disturbed
the peace,
the indifference,
the air of pure integrity,
as if the question they asked
scarcely needed
that they should answer:
we remain.
Virginia Woolf
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