Sky, yellow, gold below,
The naked trees beyond the town,
Like masts against it show,
Bare masts and spars of our earth-ship,
With shining snow sails furled,
And through the sea of space we slip
That flows all around the world.
Edmund Clarence Stedman in 1900
Our earth-ship still rises to the same purple and golden skies as we move through a sea of space in a new century.
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