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Yet, surely as He lives, the day
Of peace He promised shall be ours,
And sow its ghastly fields with flowers !
bird-song floated down the hill, The tangled bank below was still ;
No rustle from the birchen stem,
The dusk of twilight round us grew,
For, from us, ere the day was done,
But on the river's farther side
A tender glow, exceeding fair,
With us the damp, the chill, the gloom: With them the sunset's rosy bloom;
While dark, through willowy vistas seen, The river rolled in shade between.
From out the darkness where we trod
Whose light seemed not of moon or sun. We spake not, but our thought was one.
We paused, as if from that bright shore Beckoned our dear ones gone before;
And stilled our beating hearts to hear
Sudden our pathway turned from night;
Through their green gates the sunshine showed,
Down glade and glen and bank it rolled ;
And, borne on piers of mist, allied
“ So,” prayed we, “when our feet draw near The river, dark with mortal fear,
“ And the night cometh chill with dew,