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[84] O stream of life, whose swifter flow
     Is of the end forewarning,
Methinks thy sundown afterglow
     Seems less of night than morning!

Old cares grow light; aside I lay
     The doubts and fears that troubled;
The quiet of the happy day
     Within my soul is doubled.

That clouds must veil this fair sunshine
     Not less a joy I find it;
Nor less yon warm horizon line
     That winter lurks behind it.

The mystery of the untried days
     I close my eyes from reading;
His will be done whose darkest ways
     To light and life are leading!

Less drear the winter night shall be,
     If memory cheer and hearten
Its heavy hours with thoughts of thee,
     Sweet summer of St. Martin!

1880.

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