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     From the window of my dreaming,
I can see his sickle gleaming,
     Cheery-voiced, can hear him teaming
Down the locust-shaded way;
     But away, swift away,
Fades the fond, delusive seeming,
     And I kneel again to pray.

When the growing dawn is showing,
     And the barn-yard cock is crowing,
And the horned moon pales away:
     From a dream of him awaking,
Every sound my heart is making
     Seems a footstep of his taking;
Then I hush the thought, and say,
     “ Nay, nay, he's away! ”
Ah! my heart, my heart is breaking
     For the dear one far away. “

Look up, Martha! worn and swarthy,
     Glows a face of manhood worthy:
‘Robert!’ ‘Martha!’ all they say,
     O'er went wheel and reel together,
Little cared the owner whither;
     Heart of lead is heart of feather,
Noon of night is noon of day!
     Come away, come away!
When such lovers meet each other,
     Why should prying idlers stay?

Quench the timber's fallen embers,
     Quench the red leaves in December's
Hoary rime and chilly spray.

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December (1)
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