  Adown the vistas of the past I cast my memory's eye, And see bright scenes receding fast,— Some hopes in ruins lie; Yet still there shines a beacon light Whose ray on me descends, And shows in its effulgency A circle of true friends. The magic charm this circle yields Is richer far to me, Than cattle in a thousand fields Or gems from the deep sea; It whispers softly in my ears And cheers me on my way, Gives faith for doubt and murky fears, And comfort for dismay. |
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