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Hush! was that some one passing, Who paused beside the door?
For years I hung on chances,
At last I feel it:—silence
Tell me once more that rumour,
Life has more things to dwell on
Useless and past for ever;
And wait us all: . .. you too, dear,
All others have forgotten,
Nor live on a keen longing
Which shadows forth regret: . ..
Are not the letters coming?
Now that my restless legion Of hopes and fears is fled, >
Reading is joy and comfort....
.... This very day I read,
Oh, such a strange returning Of one whom all thought dead!
Not that I dream or fancy,
Earth has no hope to give me,
That all but the impossible
IN THE WOOD.
N the wood where shadows are deepest From the branches overhead, Where the wild wood-strawberries cluster, And the softest moss is spread, I met to-day with a fairy,
And I followed her where she led.
Some magical words she uttered,
I alone could understand,
While there rose on either hand
That was built in Fairy-land.
And I stood in a strange enchantment;
I had known it all before:
Of days that will come no more,
The magic of joy departed,
That never, ah, never, never,
Never again can be:— Shall I tell you what powerful fairy
Built up this palace for me? It was only a little white Violet
I found at the root of a tree.
OD'S world is bathed in beauty,
Hid in earth's mines of silver,
Ringing in Autumn's tempest,
One thought fills God's creation—
In God's world Strength is lovely,
And so is Beauty strong, And Light—God's glorious shadow—
To both great gifts belong;