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The Battle of Life by Charles Dickens
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at the sun.

Heaven keep us from a knowledge of the sights the moon beheld upon
that field, when, coming up above the black line of distant rising-
ground, softened and blurred at the edge by trees, she rose into
the sky and looked upon the plain, strewn with upturned faces that
had once at mothers' breasts sought mothers' eyes, or slumbered
happily. Heaven keep us from a knowledge of the secrets whispered
afterwards upon the tainted wind that blew across the scene of that
day's work and that night's death and suffering! Many a lonely
moon was bright upon the battle-ground, and many a star kept
mournful watch upon it, and many a wind from every quarter of the
earth blew over it, before the traces of the fight were worn away.

They lurked and lingered for a long time, but survived in little
things; for, Nature, far above the evil passions of men, soon
recovered Her serenity, and smiled upon the guilty battle-ground as
she had done before, when it was innocent. The larks sang high
above it; the swallows skimmed and dipped and flitted to and fro;
the shadows of the flying clouds pursued each other swiftly, over
grass and corn and turnip-field and wood, and over roof and church-
spire in the nestling town among the trees, away into the bright
distance on the borders of the sky and earth, where the red sunsets
faded. Crops were sown, and grew up, and were gathered in; the
stream that had been crimsoned, turned a watermill; men whistled at
the plough; gleaners and haymakers were seen in quiet groups at
work; sheep and oxen pastured; boys whooped and called, in fields,
to scare away the birds; smoke rose from cottage chimneys; sabbath
bells rang peacefully; old people lived and died; the timid
creatures of the field, the simple flowers of the bush and garden,
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