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     Wise Berkeley, grave Hopkins, and, smiling serene
On prelate and puritan, Channing is seen.

One holy name bearing, no longer they need
     Credentials of party, and pass-words of creed:
The new song they sing hath a threefold accord,
     And they own one baptism, one faith, and one Lord!

But the golden sands run out: occasions like these
     Glide swift into shadow, like sails on the seas:
While we sport with the mosses and pebbles ashore,
     They lessen and fade, and we see them no more.

Forgive me, dear friends, if my vagrant thoughts seem
     Like a school-boy's who idles and plays with his theme.
Forgive the light measure whose changes display
     The sunshine and rain of our brief April day.

There are moments in life when the lip and the eye
     Try the question of whether to smile or to cry;
And scenes and reunions that prompt like our own
     The tender in feeling, the playful in tone.

I, who never sat down with the boys and the girls
     At the feet of your Slocums, and Cartlands, and Earles,—
By courtesy only permitted to lay
     On your festival's altar my poor gift, to-day,—

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