  THOU wilt come back again, but not for me, Fair little face! Thou wilt come back, but, ah! I may not see That day of grace. No sword is at the Eden’s gate I leave; But viewless hands Have thrust me into endless night, to grieve In loveless lands. Thou wilt come back: thy footsteps make the spring, And birds sing round; But I, in wilderness wandering, Shall hear no sound; Save as far off the traveller athirst In desert lands, Hears waters that he may not reach, accursed In endless sands. |
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