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This is the place. Stand still, my steed,

Let me review the scene,
And summon from the shadowy Past

The forms that once have been,

The Past and Present here unite

Beneath Time's flowing tide, Like footprints hidden by a brook,

But seen on either side.

Here runs the highway to the town;

There the green lane descends, Through which I walk to church with thee

O gentlest of my friends!

The shadow of the linden trees

Lay moving on the grass ;
Between them and the moving boughs,

A shadow, thou didst pass.

Thy dress was like the lilies,

And thy heart as pure as they : One of God's holy messengers

Did walk with me that day.

I saw the pranches of the trees

Bend down thy touch to meet, The clover-blossoms in the grass

Rise up to kiss thy feet.

“Sleep, sleep to-day, tormenting cares,

Of earth and folly born!” Solemnly sang the village choir

On that sweet Sabbath morn.

Through the closed blinds the golden sun

Poured in a dusty beam, Like the celestial ladder seen

By Jacob in his dream.

And ever and anon the wind,

Sweet-scented with the hay,
Turned o'er the hymn book's fluttering

That on the window lay.

Long was the good man's sermon,

Yet it seemed not so to me;
For he spake of Ruth the beautiful,

And still I thought of thee,

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