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DAWN
THE swoon of night's delicate whisper, the tense wide stillness of birth, The holy awaiting of sound in the soul of the slumberous earth,The peace compelling our tears for the shame of the agonized flesh, Ere creation has riven its grave-clothes and come on the world afresh.
The dawn that doth come like a song aflame on the lips of the world, The grasses' hymn to the dew, and the resonant wave that is hurledFrom the reticent soul of the waters, and about the death-bed of night Resurrection pulsating like music, and the heavens enormous with light.