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At night the wide and level stretch of wold1 ,
Which at high noon had basked in quiet gold,
Far as the eye could see was ghostly white;
Dark was the night save for the snow's weird light.
I drew the shades far down, crept into bed;
Hearing the cold wind moaning overhead
Through the sad pines, my soul, catching its pain,
Went sorrowing with it across the plain.
At dawn,†# behold! the pall2 of night was gone,†#
Save where a few shrubs melancholy, lone,
Detained a fragile part of its†# shadow. Golden-lipped
The laughing grasses heaven's sweet wine sipped.
The sun rose smiling o'er the river's breast,
And my soul, by his happy spirit blest,
Soared like a bird to greet him in the sky,†#
And drew out of his heart Eternity.