  A noise of swarming thoughts, A muster of dim cares, a foil’d intent, With plots and plans, and counterplans and plots; And thus along the city’s edges grey Unmindful of the darkening autumn day With a droop’d head I went. My face rose,—through what spell?— Not hoping anything from twilight dumb: One star possessed her heaven. Oh! all grew well Because of thee, and thy serene estate: Silence ... I let thy beauty make me great; What though the black night come. |
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