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Poems by Jean Ingelow, In Two Volumes, Volume I. by Jean Ingelow
page 75 of 413 (18%)
God's youngest, latest born, as if, some spars
And a little clay being over of them--He
Had made our world and us thereof, yet given,
To humble us, the sight of His great heaven.

"But ah! my son, to-night mine eyes have seen
The death of light, the end of old renown;
A shrinking back of glory that had been,
A dread eclipse before the Eternal's frown.
How soon a little grass will grow between
These eyes and those appointed to look down
Upon a world that was not made on high
Till the last scenes of their long empiry!

"To-night that shining cluster now despoiled
Lay in day's wake a perfect sisterhood;
Sweet was its light to me that long had toiled,
It gleamed and trembled o'er the distant wood,
Blown in a pile the clouds from it recoiled,
Cool twilight up the sky her way made good;
I saw, but not believed--it was so strange--
That one of those same stars had suffered change.

"The darkness gathered, and methought she spread,
Wrapped in a reddish haze that waxed and waned;
But notwithstanding to myself I said--
'The stars are changeless; sure some mote hath stained
Mine eyes, and her fair glory minishèd.'
Of age and failing vision I complained,
And I bought 'some vapor in the heavens doth swim,
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