And, O beloved voices, upon which
    Ours passionately call because erelong
    Ye brake off in the middle of that song
    We sang together softly, to enrich
    The poor world with the sense of love, and witch,
    The heart out of things evil, I am strong,
    Knowing ye are not lost for aye among

    The hills, with last year's thrush. God keeps a niche
    In Heaven to hold our idols; and albeit
    He brake them to our faces and denied
    That our close kisses should impair their white,
    I know we shall behold them raised, complete,
    The dust swept from their beauty, glorified
    New Memnons singing in the great God-light.


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