Songs, Merry and Sad by John Charles McNeill
page 58 of 71 (81%)
page 58 of 71 (81%)
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I know not what it is;
I only know It quivers in the bliss Where roses blow, That on the winter's breath It broods in space, And o'er the face of death I see its face, And start and stand between Delight and dole, As though mine eyes had seen A living Soul. And I have followed it, As thou hast done, Where April shadows flit Beneath the sun; In dawn and dusk and star, In joy and fear, Have seen its glory far And felt it near, And dared recall his name Who stood unshod Before a fireless flame, And called it God. September |
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